Fugue
by Alan Harnum
Summary: Rather long story detailing action in the wings around the time of episodes 31 and 32. Spoilers up until the end of 32.


Shoujo Kakumei Utena 

FUGUE   
  
by   
  
Alan Harnum   
  
Utena and its characters belongs to Be-PaPas, Chiho Saito,   
Shogakukan, Shokaku Iinkai and TV Tokyo. 

E-mail : harnums@thekeep.org 

Homepage: http://www.thekeep.org/~mike/transp.html   
The Utena Fanfiction Repository: http://www.thekeep.org/~harnums/UFR 

* * * 

ONE 

* * *   


He was in the bedroom studying when the doorbell rang. Probably   
Kozue, getting home from her date, wanting him to come down to   
the door so he'd be forced to watch the send-off; she'd done that   
before.   
  
Miki frowned sourly, and stuck his nose back into the math   
textbook. No more, he'd decided, after his last duel--he was   
through with letting her control, through with letting how she   
chose to live her life choose how he led his. 

The doorbell rang again, insistently. He closed the book   
with a slap and went to the window that overlooked the front   
door. He pulled the curtains wide, opened it, and stuck his head   
out into the night. He _knew_ it couldn't be anyone other than   
Kozue, this late; past ten, on a school night. 

It wasn't Kozue.   
  
He was apologizing even before he finished opening the door.   
"Sorry, Nanami-kun; I was occupied." He paused, looked her up   
and down, and blinked. "Hey, what's wrong? You look..." 

Nanami had her school satchel in one hand, what looked like   
her gym bag in the other, and was wearing about the most hangdog,   
miserable, defeated expression he'd ever seen on her. "Can I   
come in?" she asked, in a tone of voice that made it clear she   
was expecting him to say no, and possibly release dogs to chase   
her away as well. 

"Sure, sure." He moved away from the door. "You okay?"   
  
She stepped inside, bent down and put her bags on the floor   
of the hallway, near the closet. He closed the door behind her,   
and stood over her as she took off her shoes, clasping and   
unclasping his hands. 

After perhaps half a minute, when she still hadn't said   
anything, he coughed and repeated his question. 

"No," Nanami replied. She straightened up.   
  
Confused, but by nature inclined to be hospitable, Miki   
opened the hall closet and indicated the shoe rack, with slippers   
for guests placed atop it. Nanami put her shoes in one of the   
pigeon-holes, and took a pair of slippers. Then she picked up   
her bags again and just stood there in the hallway, looking small   
and lost. 

"Hey..." Hesitantly, he touched her shoulder, half-   
expecting her to flinch away. She didn't. "Nanami-kun, what's   
wrong? Did something happen?" He studied her slack face and   
hollow eyes. A plethora of horrible thoughts about just what   
could have traumatized Nanami, who had always seemed close to an   
unstoppable force to him, began to swim through his head. "Do   
you want me to call your brother--"   
  
"No!" she snapped. Then, quieter, "No... no, I don't want   
that." She looked from side to side; away from him, then back to   
him, then away from him again. Finally, she settled for staring   
at her feet, seemingly rooted to the hallway carpet. "Miki-kun,   
can I stay with you tonight?" 

Though phrased entirely innocently, in an almost childlike   
tone of voice, it brought a faint blush to his face. "If you   
need to. But... won't you tell me what's wrong?" He glanced   
pointedly at the bags. "Have you run away from home?" 

It took a moment for her to answer. "I guess so."   
  
Miki touched a finger to his chin. The only thing that   
could have made Nanami leave home, and part from Touga, was...   
well, Touga. He knew--oh, he knew very well--that the President   
had been up to strange things recently, working in close concert   
with the Chairman; with the Ends of the World, the intriguing   
Ohtori Akio. For the Revolution of the World. 

"Why did you run away?"   
  
She scowled at him. "I don't want to talk about it."   
  
Miki shrugged, and took his hand off her shoulder. "Okay.   
I'll be here to listen if you want to, though." 

After a moment, the scowl faded; she looked sad and lost   
again. "Thanks, Miki." 

He put his hand lightly on her back, between her   
shoulder-blades--her back muscles, he noted, were tight with   
tension--and guided her down the hallway towards the kitchen.   
"Come on. I'll make you some tea; you look like you could use   
it." 

He flicked the lightswitch on the wall as they entered;   
Nanami sat at the small kitchen table, and put her bags down   
on the blue-tiled floor beside her chair. 

Miki got down the kettle from the cupboard and filled it at   
the sink. "This is the first time you've been to my house, isn't   
it, Nanami-kun?" 

"I think so," she said uncertainly. "We don't really see   
much of each other outside of school, except for parties." 

"True, true." The kettle had filled a little too full, and   
he poured the excess water from the spout; it swirled,   
spiralled, vanished down the drain. "Are you looking forward to   
the school festival? It's coming up soon." 

"I haven't really thought about it," she answered. "You're   
going to play piano at the concert, right?" 

"Uh-huh. I've been practicing." He placed the kettle on   
the stove, and turned the burner on high. "It's hard,   
though," he murmured. "So hard to find the right tone. I'm   
either too weak, or too strong." 

"Looking for a mean, huh?" Nanami asked quietly. Then,   
before he could answer. "And I guess you're still playing with   
_her_ in mind, aren't you?" 

"Yes," he answered coolly. "I'll play with whomever in mind   
I like." He opened the cupboard and looked over the boxed teas.   
"What do you feel like? I've got all kinds. Earl Grey, quite a   
few herbals--" 

"Green."   
  
He nodded, took down the box to extract the bags, replaced   
it. From another cupboard, he removed the blue-and-white china   
teapot, and set it down on the counter beside the stove with the   
tea bags in it. Then he took a seat at the table, across from   
Nanami. 

"So," he said.   
  
"So?" she echoed.   
  
"Does Touga-sempai know you're gone?"   
  
"I don't know. Maybe. I don't care." Each sentence   
dropped heavy and individually from her lips, like separate   
falls. 

Miki almost sighed; he couldn't imagine what had her so   
upset, what Touga could have done or said that could possibly   
make Nanami flee home. "If your big brother knows you're gone,   
he's probably worried." 

"I said, I don't care!" she snapped. Then, softer, "I don't   
want to talk about this, Miki." 

"So, you just expect me to let you stay here, without   
giving me any explanation?" 

She looked away from him, appearing very much as though she   
were about to burst into tears. The mild annoyance he'd begun to   
feel at her recalcitrance melted away in the face of concern;   
Nanami was his friend, he supposed, even though she could often   
be aloof and condescending, and sometimes even cruel. 

"I just need someplace to go," she said in a small voice.   
"I won't be any trouble. Please." 

Miki felt a dull, tight pain begin in his chest. He hated   
to see anyone, anyone at all, in such a state of sadness.   
"Nanami..." 

She crossed her arms over her chest and bowed her head; a   
visible tremble ran through her body. Briefly, the thought   
crossed his mind to leave his chair, walk around the table, and   
embrace her--he didn't think he'd ever seen someone quite so in   
need of the comfort of human contact. But he wasn't a physically   
demonstrative person, never had been; even in childhood, he   
hadn't been eager to hug or kiss his parents, or to receive the   
same from them. That had been more Kozue's style. Nanami   
probably wouldn't even find it a comfort, from him. 

Steam was rising in slow, lazy, fat curls from the mouth of   
the kettle. He glanced at Nanami, then pushed back and walked   
over to transfer the boiling water from kettle to teapot. Some   
of it splashed on the counter as he poured it; he tsked with   
annoyance, and grabbed a dishtowel from near the sink to wipe   
up the steaming patch of water. The thin towel turned painfully   
hot beneath his hands almost instantly, leaving him with a   
slightly reddened palm. 

"Miki?"   
  
He looked back as he hung the dishtowel back on the rack   
beneath the sink counter. "Yes?" 

"Did you hurt yourself? You cried out."   
  
"Did I?" He chuckled softly. "I didn't even realize that   
I did. No, I just scalded my hand a little; it's nothing." He   
walked behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, smiling   
down at her; she tilted her head back and twisted her neck a   
little to look him in the eye. "Listen, I won't press you any   
more. You can sleep in my bed tonight, in the room I share with   
Kozue; I'll take the couch in the sitting room." 

After a moment, to his surprise, she put her head down on   
her shoulder, laying her cool, soft cheek against the back of his   
hand. 

"Miki-kun..."   
  
He studied her hair; pale, fine. Almost, he took his free   
hand, the one her cheek lay not upon, and touched that hair;   
moved it away from her slim neck, away from her violet eyes.   
Almost. 

"It'll be okay, Nanami-kun," he murmured. "Really, it   
will."   
  
"It amazes how me how you can say things like that," she   
said, almost affectionately, and raised her head; part of him was   
sorry to lose the feel of her cheek upon his hand. "You really   
are the type who thinks things will work out for the best, aren't   
you?" 

"Most days, I am," he said distantly, taking his hands off   
her shoulders. "The tea's just about ready, I think." 

"Really? Has it steeped long enough?"   
  
"I don't like it very strong. Do you?"   
  
"No."   
  
He removed the tea bags, got down cups, moved them and the   
teapot to the middle of the table. Nanami poured. They sipped   
in silence for a little while, and then heard the hallway door   
opening. 

"Kozue's home," Miki said, rising.   
  
"Oh? I was wondering where she was."   
  
"A date," he replied shortly, heading out into the hallway.   
Nanami didn't follow.   
  
"Welcome back," he greeted.   
  
Kozue, who had just finished putting on her indoor slippers,   
favoured him with a brief glance. She wore a short black skirt   
and a tight, dark blue, long-sleeved sweater. 

"Did you have a good time?"   
  
She smirked at him, raised her eyebrows slightly. "He was   
a boring conversationalist and a bad kisser. Draw your own   
conclusions." She breezed by him, heading for the kitchen; his   
nose wrinkled at the too-heavy scent of her perfume. 

He followed. "Kozue, we have--"   
  
She was already in the doorway of the kitchen, staring at   
Nanami with a vague frown. "What's she doing here?" she asked,   
glancing back at him. 

"Hi, Kozue," Nanami said quietly.   
  
"Nanami-kun's going to stay the night," he said firmly,   
daring her to take some issue with it. 

Kozue's frown quirked into a kind of twisted smile; she   
looked from him, to Nanami, and back again. Then she laughed,   
softly, unkindly. "You two? I had no idea. Want me to sleep on   
the couch so you can have some privacy?" 

"Don't be disgusting!" he said sharply, and saw Nanami   
wince--he wondered what he'd said wrong. 

Kozue rolled her eyes. "Sorry. I forgot. Company." She   
turned to Nanami, and said in a too-sweet, sarcastic voice, "It's   
so lovely to have you here, Nanami-chan. Does your big brother   
know you're sleeping over?" 

"Kozue!" he snapped. With some effort, he forced himself to   
lower his voice. "Enough."   
  
"Fine, fine," she said. "You've got to learn to loosen up,   
and relax, Miki. I'm only teasing." She brushed by him, arm   
and hip briefly touching his as she passed, and headed for the   
stairs. "I'll be upstairs if you need me." 

After a glance to the silent, unresponsive Nanami, Miki   
followed after her, catching up halfway up the stairs and   
stopping her with a hand on her elbow. 

She turned, eyes and expression conveying only disinterest.   
"What?"   
  
"Listen," he hissed, barely above a whisper. "Nanami is   
having some trouble right now, and needs to stay here, at least   
for tonight. She'll be staying in our room, in my bed; I don't   
want you to treat her badly, okay?"   
  
"My," Kozue said languidly, "and here I thought the only   
girl you cared about was Himemiya-sempai." 

He flushed; damn her for being able to do this to him, for   
always knowing exactly what buttons to press. "Nanami's my   
friend and I'm worried about her. That's all." 

She resumed walking up the stairs, and he followed.   
"Really? That's all. I don't know, she's very pretty. Looking   
to gather a harem, are you? Who'll it be tomorrow, Himemiya and   
her roommate?" She smiled and looked back at him, hand on the   
knob of their shared room's door. 

"Don't make me ill," he said, flushing even hotter at the   
images her words made rise, against his will, inside his head. 

She shrugged. "I'm honest," she replied, opening the door   
with a creak. "And you hate that, because you've built your life   
upon all these lies, which you can see tumbling down around you   
even as you try and build them up again." 

"I thought I saw some birds circling the house today," he   
said after a moment. "I think they might be the chicks' parents.   
They may come back for them soon." 

She snorted. "You're still feeding them?"   
  
"What, do you think we should just let them starve?" he   
said, scowling. 

"The parents aren't coming back. Deal with it." She   
stepped inside, and closed the door behind her. Miki stood   
looking at the blank wood for a moment, then sighed heavily and   
headed back down to the kitchen. 

Nanami was still at the table. It didn't look as though   
she'd drunk any more of her tea since he'd left. She sat   
slumped forward a little, elbows resting on the wood, teacup   
cradled between her hands. 

"Sorry you had to see that," he said after a moment, hoping   
no visible trace of his embarrassment remained on his face. 

"You and Kozue live here all by yourselves, don't you?" she   
asked, as though she hadn't heard him at all. 

"Yeah."   
  
"You're the older one, right?"   
  
Despite himself, he smiled slightly. "Yeah; by about five   
minutes." 

She raised her head and looked at him intently. "What's it   
like, having a little sister?" 

His smile vanished; he sighed again. "Sometimes, you know,   
it feels like it's the hardest thing in the entire world."   
  
* * * 

She'd changed into her nightdress in the bathroom, the prude. As   
if what she had under that uniform was any kind of secret; the   
thing was practically painted on. 

Lying beneath the covers, facing the window, Kozue smiled.   
It was priceless, in her opinion; precious little Nanami,   
running away from home in some fit of pique--probably thinking   
her brother had put a contract on her head again. God, how she'd   
laughed when she'd heard about that. 

Nearly as priceless was the fact that Miki didn't see any   
significance in the fact that he'd been the first one Nanami came   
to for sanctuary. Naive as all hell, both of them; unable to see   
the motives behind their own actions. Then again, most people   
were like that, torn in so many directions by impulses they often   
tried to pretend didn't exist. 

The door creaked; light from the hallway filtered into the   
room, shoving the darkness into the corners. She didn't move at   
all as Nanami entered and closed the door behind her, so that the   
gloom come down again in full; let her think she was asleep. 

Feet moved lightly across the floor--tip-toe, maybe? That   
was courteous; Nanami was trying not to disturb her. Bedsheets   
rustled as they were pulled back; bedsprings creaked at the   
weight of a body. 

When all was silent and dark again, Kozue spoke.   
  
"So, why'd you come here first?"   
  
"What?"   
  
"There's got to be some reason."   
  
Nanami sounded a little guarded; in the darkness, Kozue   
smiled again. "It was just the first place that came to mind." 

"But why did it come to mind first?"   
  
"I don't know."   
  
"Thinking about the reasons you do things you don't seem to   
have a reason for is the best way to get to know yourself." 

"So do _you_ know why you do everything you do?" Nanami   
sounded dubious. 

"Of course," Kozue replied smoothly.   
  
"So, why'd you crawl out on that ledge to get those chicks?"   
  
After a moment's silence, Kozue said, "Do you like my   
brother?"   
  
"What? Of course. I can't think of anyone who doesn't."   
  
"I mean, as more than a friend."   
  
"Why are you asking me a thing like that?"   
  
"I could help you, you know. If you do like him. You'd be   
better for him than that Himemiya Anthy girl." 

"That's right," Nanami said. Then, she added, "Not that I   
do like him as more than a friend. I just think he needs to stop   
fixating on that girl; she's so weird." She giggled, a bit   
nervously. "But her older brother is cool."   
  
"He's a remarkable man," Kozue agreed.   
  
"Oh? You know him."   
  
"I know him quite well."   
  
"I just met him today." There was a dreamy quality in   
Nanami's voice; Kozue smirked. She didn't have any idea of what   
was coming for her, but coming it was, all the way from the Ends   
of the World, unstoppable...   
  
"So, how do you really feel about my brother?"   
  
"I told you, he's my friend." Now Nanami was annoyed,   
defensive. "Are you hard of hearing?"   
  
"Come on, be honest with me," Kozue said unctuously. "Cute   
little sisters like us ought to stick together." 

Show me your heart, pretty Nanami, and if I don't like the   
colour of it, perhaps I'll rip it out of your breast, red and   
bloody, and parade it around for the amusement of others. 

"Goodnight, Kozue," Nanami said firmly; conversation was   
over. There was pause, then a sigh; hesitant, as though she   
were unused to it, and to what came next. "I'm sorry to impose   
on you and Miki like this. What's it like, sharing a bedroom   
with your older brother? Do you two talk every night, before   
you go to bed? That must be nice." 

"No," Kozue said after a moment. "No, we hardly ever talk   
at all. Usually, we just go to sleep. Straight to sleep. No   
talking at all."   
  
* * * 

Kozue woke her the next morning, padding back into the bedroom   
after her shower, wrapped in nothing but a towel. Nanami raised   
her sleepy-eyed head from the pillow, saw blue towel falling   
away from pale curves, and simply closed her eyes again and lay   
back down, to wait until Kozue finished dressing. 

She was so weird, that girl; not like her brother at all.   
What had she been thinking, asking those kinds of questions? It   
wasn't any of her business. Sure, Miki was nice--sweet, even--   
but he wasn't cool like the Chairman. Such a mysterious man, and   
so kind to his sister... Touga never would have sat around and   
let her feed him shaved ice these days... he'd have something   
better to do, or... 

Well, he wasn't her brother anyway, so she didn't care.   
  
Kozue was humming something, very softly; a pretty tune.   
Nanami heard her footsteps move across the floor, then pause.   
She was right beside the bed.   
  
Nanami waited, scrunching her eyes closed and not moving.   
Perhaps half a minute passed, and Kozue still hadn't moved away.   
Unable to stand it any longer, she opened her eyes. "What?" 

For a moment, Kozue wore the same expression she must have   
been wearing ever since she'd come to stand beside the bed--   
perhaps even before--and Nanami understood, with a kind of   
creeping terror, the real reasons behind Kozue's questioning the   
night before. And why she'd called herself a wild animal; as far   
as Nanami was concerned, in that moment, Kozue looked like she   
was about to bend down and sink small white teeth into her   
throat. 

Then it was gone, and Kozue was looking, as usual, slightly   
disinterested in everything. "Oh. So you weren't actually   
asleep." 

"No," Nanami murmured, resisting the urge to leap from the   
bed and run downstairs, screaming for help. "Why were you   
standing like that?" 

"You're lucky, getting to sleep in my brother's bed like   
that." Kozue smirked; it was a very old expression for her young   
face. "Too bad he wasn't in it with you, hmm?" 

Nanami just stared at her for a moment, then said,   
incredulously, "What the hell are you talking about?" 

"Oh, nothing. See you." With that, Kozue left the room.   
  
Nanami sat upright in the small bed, pulled up her legs,   
rested her arms on her knees and her chin on her arms. She   
realized she was blushing faintly; had Kozue seen that? Well,   
what did she expect, saying something like that? When people   
said dirty things like that, it brought pictures to mind just by   
power of suggestion, even if they were things you didn't ever   
think of by yourself. 

She got out of bed, took up the bag she'd packed her   
clothing in, and headed out into the hallway to take a shower in   
the small, blue-walled bathroom of the house. As she passed the   
stairs, she heard voices rising from the front hallway, and   
paused to listen. 

"Did you and Nanami-kun get along all right?"   
  
"Just fine. Did you like sleeping on the couch? It'll be   
good practice for when you're a married man." 

"Why are you acting so weird?"   
  
Kozue's laughter drifted up the stairs like ugly black   
smoke, cruel like it had been the night before. "You and Nanami   
are a good pair. Neither of you can see what's right before your   
eyes, you're both so fixated on things you can't ever have." 

"Kozue, what's _wrong_ with you? Hey--"   
  
There was the sound of the front door opening, then closing,   
not quite hard enough to be counted a slam. Very softly, the   
sound of Miki sighing reached Nanami's ears. Footsteps; it   
sounded as though he could be heading towards the stairs. She   
hurriedly made her way towards the bathroom. 

There was no way she could spend another night here. If it   
were just Miki, it would be fine; nice, even. They could drink   
tea together, and talk, get to know each other better. But Kozue   
was too weird, and too scary.   
  
She showered quickly, then changed into her spare Council   
uniform. It was a little wrinkled from inhabiting the cramped   
space of her gym bag, and she smoothed it out as well as she   
could before the fogged glass of the mirror on the shower doors.   
If this went on much longer, she was going to have to find a coin   
laundry or something. 

How much longer could this go on? She definitely wasn't   
spending another night here, but where was she to go? There was   
no way she was going to let a common bunch of girls like Keiko,   
Eiko and Yuuko see what she'd been brought to, running away from   
home. Maybe Juri's place... but she didn't know Juri in the way   
she knew Miki, and, to tell the truth, she was kind of scared of   
her... then again, at least Juri was a girl; she'd probably   
understand. And she didn't have a sister; that would be a plus. 

Downstairs, she found Miki in the kitchen, buttering toast.   
There were eggs on a blue plate, a sliced apple and mixed   
berries in a bowl; a glass of orange juice, a glass of milk. A   
place set for one at the little kitchen table. 

"Good morning, Nanami-kun," Miki said brightly, smiling at   
her as he set the toast down, and a pot of jam beside it. "Did   
you sleep well? I made breakfast for you." 

She sat down, a little stunned. "Thanks. Aren't you going   
to have anything?" 

"I ate when I got up."   
  
"When was that?"   
  
He checked his watch. "About two hours ago; I have to get   
up early, you see, to feed the chicks." 

"Hasn't it been almost two weeks now since you got them?"   
  
"Yeah, about that."   
  
"And the parents still haven't come back."   
  
He was standing at the sink counter, washing his hands, and   
she saw him flinch. "No. I'm hoping they will soon; I'm not   
sure how long I can keep on feeding the chicks like I have been." 

"Maybe you should just call an animal shelter." She began   
to eat; the eggs had spices in them, and cheese. Miki was a good   
cook.   
  
After a moment, he nodded. "Yeah. I'll probably do that   
soon." There was a defeated tone in his voice that she didn't   
like to hear. She would have said something, but her mouth was   
full of toast, and before she could finish chewing, the phone on   
the wall near the fridge rang. Miki quickly picked it up. 

"Hello? Oh..." He glanced to her; she felt a sliver of ice   
trace her spine. "Yes. She's here; she spent the night here.   
She's fine. What? Hello? Hello?" 

She was already standing as he hung up the phone, shoving   
back her chair so hard the legs scraped angrily on the tiles.   
"How could you?" she whispered; she felt as though she'd been   
punched in the gut. Betrayed. 

He looked away from her. "I said you could stay here,   
Nanami-kun. I didn't say I was going to hide you from Touga-   
sempai. Whatever problems you're having with him, he's your   
brother, and you should try and work them out, not run away from   
them." 

She almost slapped him, but held herself back; at her side,   
her hands trembled, balled into fists. "You... you..." she   
snarled, "you don't understand anything!" 

"Of course I don't," he said quietly, sadly. "How could I,   
when you wouldn't tell me anything?" 

She snatched her bags from the floor, spun on her heel, and   
headed towards the front door. Miki hurried after her and   
touched her shoulder as she reached for the handle; she pulled   
away from him, vision blurring. How could he do that? She'd   
thought he was a friend, a good friend... 

"Nanami-kun!" he said. She yanked the door open; he   
grabbed her arm, tightly. "You can't just--" 

"Let me go!" she snapped, painfully yanking free of his   
grip. She hurried out into the front yard; Miki didn't follow,   
but stood in the door, watching her as she left and chewing   
on his lower lip. 

"Nanami, please," he pleaded, "what's wrong? Why did you   
run away from home? What happened?"   
  
She didn't look back, wouldn't have had anything to say even   
if she did. 

* * * 

TWO   
  
* * *   
  
It rained that night, just a little, misting the window-panes,   
but the rain made her think of him; she expected that rain   
always would. Beneath the window sat a little table, and upon   
the table was a phone that almost never rang, and right now, she   
was standing before that table, looking out the window on the   
light rain falling on the city, the school, the world. 

Juri touched her fingers to the cool glass, and drew a   
meaningless pattern in the condensation. Bach was on the stereo;   
the Cello Suites. An old LP on an old player, both brought from   
home. Rain on the window, and the deep-voiced cello. Music to   
relax to; to let down her hair to, before taking a long, hot   
shower, and putting on her nightdress. Old routines. 

When the doorbell rang, she frowned sourly, even though   
she'd been expecting it. Miki had caught her at lunchtime and   
told her. She had her speech all prepared. Not my business; I   
don't want to get involved; you should face your problems, not   
run away from them, whatever they may be. 

Nanami, standing in the doorway, with rain on her hair and   
face and uniform, looked small and bedraggled. The sad, hopeful   
expression didn't help either. 

She steeled herself, even as the words   
("Hi, Juri-sempai...") were leaving Nanami's lips. "Don't   
bother. I know why you're here." 

Nanami paused, blinked uncomprehendingly for a moment, then   
lost the hopeful part of her expression. "Did Miki tell you?" 

"Yes."   
  
Nanami stood there expectantly.   
  
After a moment, Juri said, "Come in until the rain stops."   
  
As Nanami entered, Juri was once again struck strongly by   
the wish that she could actually be as hard-hearted as people   
thought she was. Life would be far easier if she actually could   
not care about these kind of things. 

"This place is a lot nicer than a regular dorm room," Nanami   
said, looking around. 

"The school provides it," Juri said shortly. "Part of the   
privilege of being on the Council. I believe Saionji has   
something similar, although I've never been there." 

"Oh." Nanami unlaced her shoes and looked around for a   
moment, apparently for guest slippers. Since Juri didn't have   
any, it was a futile search. 

The clock on the wall chimed seven. Nanami put her bags   
down by the table with the phone that seldom rang. The First   
Cello Suite ended, the Second began. It was three hours before   
Juri normally went to bed. 

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked.   
  
"Tea would be nice," Nanami said. She paused. "Miki made   
me tea." 

"Why didn't you stay with him again?"   
  
"He didn't tell you?"   
  
Juri began to walk towards the kitchenette. "No. He only   
said that you'd run away from home, and might come and ask to   
stay with me." 

"Was that all?"   
  
She stopped, looked back. "No. He said I should call your   
brother if you did show up." 

Nanami visibly tensed. "Are you going to?"   
  
"I keep my own counsel," Juri said coolly. "Whatever   
situation you're having with your brother isn't my affair." 

"A while ago, you said you were worried about what my   
brother's up to. What did you mean by that?" 

Almost, she answered. She knew the truth now. But would it   
do any good? As before, there would undoubtedly be an order to   
these things. Saionji, Miki, herself; now Nanami's turn had   
come--she realized, with a sudden flash of insight, that it was   
imminent. And Touga must know it, and whatever he'd done to   
drive Nanami from him--because it had to be him, it had to be--   
would have been done with the intent of making her duel again. 

"Just that he's back at school, but isn't coming to Council   
meetings. Knowing your brother, it's because he's found   
something better to do with his time." Yes; let Nanami take from   
that what she would, for the truth was in it, if she sought for   
it. But she would not, could not say more than that--some sense   
of honour, duty, dedication, prevented her, even though she'd   
realized some time ago that her part in these things was over,   
had ended with a breaking locket whose shattering set the heavens   
weeping. Or perhaps later, in the hospital corridor; or outside,   
looking back at the setting sun, remembering watching the sun set   
from their place, beside him--feeling, for a brief moment, all   
the long and treasured bitterness lift from her heart, as though   
hurled into and consumed by the sun, so that all that was left   
was a radiant glow, a hope and conviction that things were going   
to get better. 

Then, so it seemed, her miracle happened. She heard   
footsteps; someone was pacing her, a few steps behind. And she   
paused, looked back. Shiori's words were, she suspected,   
indelible, even though she couldn't for the life of her remember   
her own responses. Hi, Juri-san. I looked for you at the   
fencing club, and they said you'd come here because a girl had   
been hurt. I wanted to tell you something. I wanted to say I   
was sorry. I acted like a real bitch, and all you were trying to   
do was help me. You know you were the only person who even came   
to see me? No one else even called. I thought I'd made all   
these new friends since I came back. But I guess I hadn't. Not   
the kind of friends like we used to be. Am I babbling? I'm   
sorry. I wish sometimes that it hadn't happened; it was all my   
fault. But I guess you can't go back, right? You've got to move   
on. You've got to let the old things go. And I've tried. But   
I'm sorry I split us apart. Anyway, that's all I really had to   
say. Goodbye, Juri-san. 

She wished very much she could remember what she'd said in   
reply; she could remember only the generalities. It's okay; I   
understand. You were very upset at the time. That was a long   
time ago. I've moved on. 

"Juri-sempai? Hello? Are you even listening to me? Hey!"   
  
Juri coughed. "Sorry." She headed into the kitchenette,   
shaking her head. It didn't do to sink into reverie like that,   
around someone else; raised too many questions. 

Nanami followed her in. "Hey, what were you thinking about?   
You looked really distant." 

"My thoughts are my business," she half-snapped, putting   
water into the electric kettle and plugging it in. The ON light   
lit up as the coils began to heat. 

"Hmph. Fine." Nanami sniffed and leaned back against the   
doorframe. "This really is a nice place..." 

Inwardly, Juri let out a long sigh. "You can stay one   
night. But you sleep on the couch. That's all I'll give you. I   
don't know what's going on..." But wasn't that a lie? She did   
know, or at least could guess. "...but I'm not just going to let   
you hide out here indefinitely. You need to face your problems   
instead of running away from them." Feeling especially   
hypocritical today, aren't you, Juri? 

If there was any hint of internal conflict in her voice,   
Nanami either didn't pick it up or didn't acknowledge it. "All   
right. I'll find somewhere else to stay tomorrow." 

"Are you simply intending to stay away from home and your   
brother indefinitely?" 

"I'm not going home ever again." Juri half-expected Nanami   
to stomp her foot on the floor as she said it. "Never, ever,"   
she muttered, folding her arms. 

Juri nearly rolled her eyes. "Of course."   
  
"You don't think I'm serious?" Nanami said, sounding peeved.   
"I'm not! I'm not going home." She began waving her arms for   
emphasis and speaking so rapidly that Juri had trouble making out   
individual words. "Listen, I'm telling the truth, even if my   
brother showed up right now and--" 

The doorbell rang.   
  
Nanami froze, mouth open in mid-sentence, arms paused   
mid-wave. Slowly, almost mechanically, her head turned to look   
back towards the door. 

"Stay in here," Juri said, moving by her to answer it. On   
the way, she reached out with her foot and nudged Nanami's bags   
beneath the table, out of casual sight for someone on the other   
side of the door. 

She opened the door, and two thoughts hit her   
simultaneously: 

One was, her hair looks lovely when its wet.   
  
The other was, why this night, of all nights?   
  
Close behind those two came: damn it, Nanami, couldn't you   
have chosen another night, _any_ other night, to come beg   
sanctuary from me? 

"Juri-san," Shiori said (such a lovely smile she had), "I   
was running errands, and it got late; then I realized that I was   
in your area, and thought I'd drop by and say hello." 

She was out of her school uniform, in a dark silk skirt and   
a white blouse, both a little damp with rain, and she looked   
absolutely gorgeous. 

"Hello," Juri said slowly. "I didn't realize you knew where   
I lived." 

The smile somehow grew more appealing. "You're a legend.   
Everyone in the building is scared of you." 

She laughed. Even though she did find it funny, it came out   
sounding forced. "They must think you're brave, to even come   
onto the threshold of my lair." 

Shiori shrugged. There was a folded umbrella in one hand,   
dripping water on the hallway carpet. "I couldn't ever be scared   
of you, Juri-san. We were friends for too long." She paused.   
"Hey, have you had dinner yet?" 

"No. I eat late." It would have been take-out tonight; she   
hadn't felt like cooking. "Why?" 

"Want to go out? I haven't eaten either."   
  
Yes, Shiori, I'd like to go out for dinner with you more   
than almost anything else in the entire world. "Sure. Just let   
me--" 

Shiori's glance moved over Juri's shoulder; her smile faded   
a bit. "Oh. I didn't realize you had somebody over." 

Almost, almost she turned around, and said, "I told you to   
stay in the kitchen!"; the words were on her lips, even, but then   
she realized the impression they would probably give Shiori, and   
swallowed them. 

"Shiori, this is Kiryuu Nanami, the Proxy Student Council   
President. Nanami, this is Takatsuki Shiori." 

Nanami, standing in the doorway of the kitchenette, smiled   
and bobbed a slight but perfectly polite bow. "Hi. Nice to meet   
you." 

"Nice to meet you," Shiori echoed back.   
  
"Nanami and I were just finishing off some paperwork for the   
Council. Right, Nanami?" 

Nanami nodded immediately. "Yes; paperwork. For the school   
festival." 

"I'm sorry to intrude on--" Shiori began.   
  
"You're not intruding," Juri said, hoping it didn't come out   
too quickly. "Really, all that I had to do was give Nanami some   
files on the budget. They're in my bedroom. If you'd like to   
come in for a moment, Shiori..." 

Shiori nodded, and stepped inside. Juri closed the door   
behind her, then headed for her bedroom, Nanami at her heels. As   
soon as they were inside, she closed the door behind her. 

"Hey, isn't that the girl who went out with Tsuchiya-   
sempai?" 

"Yes," Juri said shortly, and started lying. "Now,   
listen. She's an old friend of mine who I'm trying to reconcile   
with. It's inconvenient that you showed up tonight. The way   
we're going to work it is like this..." 

* * * 

"She's Kiryuu Touga's little sister?" 

"Yes."   
  
"Seems nice enough. Although, a bit odd, heading home   
without an umbrella, in this rain." 

"I expect she caught a cab."   
  
"Oh. Yes, they're a very wealthy family, aren't they?"   
  
"Yes."   
  
The light rain fell softly upon the canvas of their   
umbrellas, two droll rhythms, one for each. Shiori turned her   
head to study Juri in profile for a moment; still in her Student   
Council uniform, even though it was hours after school had   
finished. It wasn't that it didn't look good on her; Shiori   
merely wondered if she ever wore anything else, even outside   
school hours. 

"I can't think of the last time we did something together   
like this," she said, moving her gaze ahead again. There weren't   
many other people on the streets; rainy evenings like this were   
times to be inside, with friends or family. 

"It would have been before you left the school," Juri   
replied. "We certainly haven't done anything like this since you   
returned." 

"It would have been all three of us together, then."   
  
"Yes," Juri said softly, after a moment. "How is he doing   
these days? Do you keep in touch?" 

"I got a letter from him a few weeks ago. He seems well."   
After a moment, she said, "But, then again, people don't always   
say what they feel in letters. It's easier to hide the truth in   
those than it is face-to-face."   
  
"That's true"   
  
"I have his address, if you'd like to write to him..."   
  
"No; I don't think that would be a good idea."   
  
"It's up to you. But I think he'd like to hear from you."   
  
"Perhaps. Where should we go for dinner?"   
  
"I was thinking that beefbowl place we used to go. Cheap   
and good." 

Juri smiled, a smile that Shiori remembered from when they'd   
been younger; it had been a real shock, to come back, and   
discover that Juri had changed from the most popular and admired   
girl in her grade to a cold, distant person whom people were   
afraid to be around. "I haven't been there in years." That   
smile, a recollection from more carefree days, was almost   
entirely the old Juri, and felt good to see. 

"I went there with Tsuchiya-sempai once," she said, and   
watched the smile, as she'd expected, vanish. "I told him that   
it used to be your favourite place to go." 

"Oh."   
  
"He was in love with you, wasn't he?"   
  
Juri stepped over a puddle that had formed in a depression   
on the sidewalk, then nodded. "Yes. I suppose he was." 

"Then, he was just using me to get at you? As part of this   
Duelling Game?"   
  
"I don't know. Maybe. Yes."   
  
She pressed on, past the lump threatening to form in her   
throat. "Why? What did he want the power of miracles for?" 

"I suppose he must have had his reasons," Juri said   
guardedly. "But, I never heard from him what they really were   
before he left." 

Shiori could tell that Juri wasn't saying everything, even   
if she wasn't exactly lying. But it wasn't as though she had any   
right to expect total honesty from Juri, after all she'd done.   
"He was someone important to you, wasn't he? There was something   
in the past between you; that was why you warned me, that he   
couldn't be trusted." 

After a moment, Juri nodded. "That's right." She peered   
ahead into the misty rain, through which the dim shapes of the   
few other walkers on the streets moved like phantoms from another   
world. "I think we're almost there." 

"Just about." Shiori closed her mouth and looked down at   
her feet briefly. Rain, glistening like jewels on the black   
gloss of her pumps. "How long did you go out with him?" 

Juri stiffened a little; she was obviously growing less and   
less relaxed as the conversation went on. "It was never like   
that between us," she said eventually. "After you left the   
school, I threw myself into fencing like I never had before. He   
took me on as his protege; as his personal project, I suppose." 

"But," Shiori persisted, "the two of you were never..."   
  
"No."   
  
They reached the restaurant, an old-fashioned little place   
with a big blue-curtained front window, half-opaque from   
condensation. They furled their umbrellas beneath the blue   
awning over the door, and left them hanging on the coat rack near   
the front. The place was barely half-full, with most of the   
customers seated at the counter; one couple, a boy and a girl   
whom Shiori faintly recognized from seeing them around the high   
school building, sat at a booth. She led the way to another   
booth, as far from the occupied one as could be. A waitress   
appeared with menus; they ordered green tea and sodas, and   
studied the menus as the waitress left to get the drinks. 

"I don't even remember what I used to have here," Juri said.   
  
"The teriyaki beef bowl," Shiori answered automatically.   
Then, a bit embarrassed, she explained, "It's just one of those   
things that sticks out in my memory. You always ordered the   
teriyaki bowl." 

"I don't remember which one you liked," Juri said, sounding   
a bit disappointed in herself. 

"I never settled on one like you did. I think I'll have the   
Szechuan today; that was always good." They put down their   
menus; the waitress returned, deposited the drinks, took their   
orders, collected the menus, left. 

"It was very much like before, you know," Shiori said, once   
the waitress was out of earshot. 

Juri looked up from pouring tea for both of them from the   
little pot. "What was?" 

"Tsuchiya-sempai. Just watching you watch him at the   
fencing club, I could tell he was someone important to you. I   
didn't really start to want him--more than all the girls did, I   
mean, he had even more admirers than Kiryuu Touga for a while--   
until I realized that he meant something to you." She raised the   
straw to her mouth and sucked up a little of the too-sweet lemon-   
lime soda. "Wasn't that horrible of me?" 

For a little while, Juri didn't say anything at all. Then,   
a kind of comprehension seemed to dawn on her, and she said, "So,   
when I told you that you should stop going out with him..." 

"I thought you were just jealous. Trying to break us up,"   
Shiori finished. 

"First Ichiro, then Ruka," Juri said quietly. For a moment,   
she looked and sounded angry, and it was a beautiful sort of   
thing to see, like the wrath of an angel. "Why do you feel this   
need to compete with me, Shiori?" 

"I don't even really know myself," Shiori admitted.   
"Perhaps I'm just a terrible person." She looked at her nails   
for a moment: short, neatly trimmed. "But, when we were kids, I   
always felt like I was in your shadow. And even today, when I   
think about how I am, and how you are... I feel like I hate you,   
sometimes, for being so good so easily."   
  
The brief anger was gone, but Juri was frowning now. "I   
don't understand what you mean." 

"Of course you don't," Shiori said quietly, unable to meet   
Juri's eyes. Saying the things she'd always felt out loud, to   
Juri's face, made her realize that they sounded small and petty   
and selfish. "Never mind. It's my fault, not yours." 

Their food arrived, and they ate in silence for a few   
minutes. The atmosphere had become uncomfortable, defensive.   
Too many things had been said, after too long a time of living in   
two different worlds. 

Eventually, unable to stand the only sound being the chewing   
of food punctuated by sips of tea or slurps of soda, Shiori   
asked, "Is fencing hard to get good at, Juri?" 

Juri looked surprised at the question, then shrugged. "Like   
any sport--this is my opinion, mind you, and others may tell you   
different--it's not hard to pick up the basics. But it's hard to   
get good. It takes time, and a skilled teacher. Why do you   
ask?" 

"I've been thinking of joining the team. Something to   
improve myself. Whenever I watched you and Ichiro fencing, I   
always wished I could do it too--it looked so cool--but I always   
thought, 'No, I wouldn't be any good at that.'" 

Juri's face quirked slightly; a strange expression, eyebrows   
lifted slightly, mouth twisted somewhere between a frown and a   
smile. "Why would you think that unless you tried it?" 

Shiori laughed, softly, a little bitterly. "That's what   
makes you different from me. You're not scared to try things,   
because you're confident enough that they'll turn out well. I'm   
not like that." 

Juri flinched slightly. "You don't really know me well   
enough to say that about me," she said. "I wish I were as strong   
as you seem to think I am, but I'm not." 

For a time, there was silence again. Shiori pushed bits of   
rice around the bottom of her bowl. Juri finished off the last   
of the tea. 

"If you're interested in joining the team, Miki and I hold   
an orientation meeting every month. You'll get a chance to   
handle a foil, learn some of the basics. See if it suits you." 

"I think I'd like that."   
  
"You'd probably be good at it." Juri paused for a moment,   
then looked faintly perturbed. "There's no obligation to join   
after the orientation meeting. But if you find you like it..."   
  
"I think I will. As long as I'm not absolutely horrible at   
it."   
  
"You won't be."   
  
They finished up what remained of dinner, called for the   
bill. When it came, Juri reached for it; Shiori quickly covered   
it with her hand. 

"I'll take it. I was the one who invited you."   
  
"Let's split it."   
  
"No; I insist."   
  
"All right."   
  
Rain was still falling as they left the restaurant, and they   
opened their umbrellas to shield themselves. All the walking in   
the misty rain had begun to uncurl Juri's hair from its usual   
tight coils, making her look fetchingly dishevelled. They had a   
short distance to go together before they parted ways at an   
intersection of streets. They stood in a streetlamp's cast pool   
of light; that light, caught and refracted by the drizzling rain,   
seemed to surround them briefly in shifting curtains of fire. 

"This was really nice," Shiori said. "I feel... better than   
I have in a long time." 

"About what?"   
  
"I don't know. Maybe everything." She tilted her head   
back a little, staring around the edge of her umbrella at the   
grey clouds overlaid across the star-filled night sky. "Where   
did Tsuchiya-sempai go after he left the school, Juri?" 

For a moment, Juri looked so sad that she wished she hadn't   
asked the question, even though she wanted terribly to know the   
answer. 

Then, Juri's expression softened to mere melancholy, and she   
said, "How much did he tell you about why he was away from   
school for so long?" 

"Not much. Just that he'd been on sick leave, but was   
better now."   
  
"From what I understand, he was still sick all that time.   
He left the hospital, even though he wasn't supposed to, and came   
back to school." Juri closed her eyes, sighed deeply. "I wish I   
didn't have to tell you this."   
  
Shiori began, softly, "You don't have--"   
  
"No. You should know. The exertions were too much for him,   
I think. He died shortly after he returned to the hospital." 

Shiori found her mouth opening, but no words were coming   
out; they seemed to have spiralled down into some dark place   
within her. She raised her hand and covered her gaping mouth   
with it. There were tears in her eyes, suddenly; had Juri been   
anyone else, she thought that they would probably been in hers as   
well, but she just stood there, wearing a stoic mask that almost   
managed to cover deep grief. There were no other people in   
sight, and the misty light seemed to be everywhere. They seemed   
to stand in their own tiny worlds, bordering, but divided by   
boundaries defined by the edges of umbrellas. 

"If he was so sick, why did he come back?"   
  
"Because of me," Juri murmured, looking sick. "All because   
of me." 

Awkwardly, impulsively, trying not to enmesh their umbrellas   
too badly, Shiori gave Juri a one-armed hug, head on her   
shoulder, arm around her back and reaching beneath the upraised   
arm holding the umbrella. Juri clearly wasn't expecting it at   
all, and for a moment seemed to have been turned to stone; she'd   
changed so much. Shiori remembered how warmly Juri had always   
used to respond to these kinds of physical affections, gestures   
of friendship, when they were very young. 

Then, slowly, hesitantly, Juri's free arm crept around her   
shoulders and tightened, and she found herself crying against the   
cool, stiff white collar and soft, padded epaulettes of Juri's   
Council jacket. Crying, and desperately wanting not to cry,   
because hadn't he used her, and hurt her so much? Why should   
she cry for him? But the tears came on all the same, despite the   
rationalizations. 

Juri didn't cry. Shiori wondered if she remembered how.   
And they stood there in the rain together for a long time, Juri   
holding her gently, she clinging to Juri and sobbing like a baby,   
wanting to stop, unable to. Was it always to be this way, with   
Juri being so strong, and she being so weak? She didn't think   
she could stand that; couldn't bear a rekindled friendship, if it   
meant having to be a guttering candle beside Juri's bonfire of   
strength and beauty. 

"Don't cry, Shiori. Shiori, don't cry. Please." Barely a   
whisper, almost inaudible over even the faint sound of the rain   
breaking upon the canvas shields of their umbrellas; which,   
Shiori noted now, were canted a little too unevenly by their   
awkward embrace to provide full protection from the rain. 

With both regret and relief--strange, how those two things,   
in seeming opposition, could possess her in equal measure--Shiori   
broke from the embrace, slowly: move her arm; wait for Juri to   
move hers; one step back. 

"I'm sorry," she said, still standing close to Juri,   
umbrella still held off-kilter so that the rain continued to soak   
through her skirt and blouse, making them cling to her skin; the   
sensation was not entirely unpleasant. "What you must think of   
me..." 

The words fell away at the look on Juri's face. Haunted,   
sad, pained, and her eyes, green like the sea was sometimes   
green, were so wounded, vulnerable. There were raindrops all   
over her hair, which hardly curled at all any more. Shiori found   
herself lifting her free hand again; this time, perhaps, with the   
intent of touching that pale, perfect cheek, to feel tension and   
grief and unshed tears running below the surface like rivers   
underground. She couldn't say for certain with what intention,   
because she didn't really know herself, and the motion was   
arrested when Juri spoke. 

"I wish I could be strong enough to show my feelings like   
that," she said, more quiet than the quiet rain. "You know how   
often I've thought, 'I should cry for him', and I haven't been   
able to? Even when I'm all alone..." 

Shiori put her hand back at her side. "I don't think of it   
as being strong," she said after a moment. She finally adjusted   
her umbrella so that it covered her against the rain again; Juri   
had already done the same. 

"I should get home," Juri said, quickly, and turned away, so   
fast her damp hair swung about and spattered loose raindrops   
against Shiori's face. "Thank you for dinner." 

"Juri!" Shiori called, halting her before she could move   
too far away. After a moment, she looked back. "We should do   
this again." She managed to make herself smile. "Maybe without   
so much crying on my part the next time; old friends like us   
should get together." 

"I'd like that," Juri said after a moment. She couldn't   
seem to look into Shiori's eyes. "Are you going to come to the   
orientation meeting? It's next week. Tuesday." 

"Yeah. I'll be there. Goodnight, Juri."   
  
"Goodnight, Shiori."   
  
She watched Juri walk away for a moment, through the   
falling rain. Her stride was sure, her shoulders were set; from   
behind, she looked strong, unstoppable. 

"You wish you were as strong as I think you are, huh?"   
Shiori murmured softly, still smiling. Then she turned away and   
went in the opposite direction. By the time she got back to her   
dorm, the rain had stopped falling. 

* * *   
  
No umbrella, not even a raincoat, and even though it was a short   
walk back to Juri's building from where they'd parted ways,   
Nanami felt soaked to the skin by the time she got back, with her   
hair plastered against her neck, shoulders and back like a dead   
animal's pelt. She let herself back into the apartment with the   
key Juri had given her, and stood for a moment in the front   
hallway, shivering and dripping water onto the floor,   
wishing faintly that she could retreat back into ignorance,   
pretend that everything was as it always had been, go back home   
and apologize to her brother, and he'd smile, and call her a   
silly girl for running way, but say that she was forgiven, and   
then he'd hold her, strong arms, but so gentle-- 

Scowling fiercely, she knelt down, causing her damp uniform   
to squelch unpleasantly, and violently removed her shoes--as   
violently, admittedly, as one could remove shoes. A rapidly-   
spreading pool of water was gathering at her feet. After   
glancing around instinctively--ridiculous, she knew she was the   
only one here, but the unfamiliar surroundings strengthened her   
natural fear of voyeurs--she stripped out of her clinging uniform   
and down to her undergarments. They weren't especially dry   
either, but she kept them on, bundled her uniform under her arm,   
and headed for the bathroom. 

The bathroom had a white-tiled floor, and a big shower, and   
a sink whose counter looked as though it might be real marble.   
She hung her uniform to dry over the top of the shower doors,   
then grabbed a big, soft, fluffy white towel from off the rack to   
wrap herself in. It felt so good and warm that she was almost   
able to forget all the unpleasantness of what had brought her   
here. She took her hair out of its usual coiffure so that it   
hung loose, towelled it dry as well she could, then headed back   
out and changed into her nightdress. She also retrieved a   
hairbrush from the little toiletry bag she'd packed. 

As she zipped the bag back up again, her eyes fell upon her   
brother's cell phone. On perverse impulse, she took it out,   
turned it on, and waited, crouched down by the table beneath   
which Juri had shoved her gym bag. 

Five minutes was all it took, at the very most.   
  
//"Touga? Touga? Where are you? Didn't you get my note?   
You said you'd come to me, whenever I needed you... Touga..."// 

She hung up, closed the phone, turned it off again. She   
had been able to think of nothing cruel to say in reply, found   
perhaps that she had no real desire to say any such thing. Then   
she put the dress on, found a comfortable seat on the couch (her   
bed tonight, apparently) and began brushing her hair. After no   
more than five strokes, she decided it was too quiet, and went up   
to the stereo. Juri, like Touga, seemed to prefer LPs, outdated   
though they were; her brother always claimed the sound was better   
than compact discs. The rich cello music that had been playing   
when she'd arrived--Bach, the label on the LP said--soon filled   
the apartment again. She took her seat, resumed brushing her   
hair. Eventually, she stopped feeling bedraggled as a dead rat,   
if not exactly presentable for a social function. Not that she'd   
be going to many of those in the future, having resolved never to   
return home again, which was where most of the social functions   
she'd ever attended had taken place. 

She wondered if her parents were worried about her. Father   
probably didn't even know, he was almost impossible to reach when   
he was away on his business trips; Mother was probably just   
letting Touga handle everything, going out to luncheons and teas   
with her friends as usual. It wasn't as though either of them   
was used to seeing her every day anyway. 

She put her hairbrush away, retrieved a magazine from her   
school bag, and curled up on the couch with her feet tucked in   
beneath her. It was a big couch, soft, comfortable. She'd never   
had to sleep on a couch before, but expected it wouldn't be all   
that unpleasant. 

Moments after opening the magazine, she realized that she   
would probably never, ever have an opportunity to look around   
Juri's apartment without Juri being there ever again. She   
calmly closed the magazine and set it down beside her on the   
couch, then began after taking the LP off the turntable. 

Nothing especially interesting in the front room, but that   
wasn't surprising. She pulled back the white curtains over the   
glass-fronted sliding doors to look out onto the small balcony,   
with filigreed iron railings. The rain seemed to be slackening   
a little. She pulled them closed again, and wandered into the   
kitchen. 

Other than having a surprising amount of junk food in her   
cupboards for someone with such a good figure, Juri had an   
unremarkable kitchen. There was a tomato in the fridge's   
vegetable drawer that had definitely seen better days; she   
wrinkled her nose at it, closed the fridge, and headed for the   
bathroom. 

The cupboard behind the sink mirror held the usual feminine   
assortment; no interesting prescription medicines or anything of   
the like. The cupboard under the sink had extra bottles of   
shampoo and other toiletries, spare towels, and an impressively   
expensive cordless hairdryer with a matched and equally expensive   
curling iron. 

She hadn't really been expecting anything good until the   
bedroom, though, which was why she saved it for last. Everyone   
kept their secrets in their bedroom. She'd had a brief glimpse   
of it when Juri had pulled her in there after the friend had   
shown up. There was a dresser, a desk, a large bed, a free-   
standing lamp, a closet door. 

She checked the dresser first, but Juri kept nothing   
scandalous or interesting beneath her underwear. A lot of it was   
awfully frilly, though; she had expected Juri would go for more   
utilitarian styles. The closet was similar, with a good number   
of tasteful, fashionable, very feminine dresses--then again,   
she'd always respected Juri's sense of fashion. It was nearly as   
good as hers. 

The bed was neatly-made, and the tops of dresser and desk   
were clean and orderly. On the dresser was a framed photograph;   
four people, seated on the couch in a very nice living room. She   
recognized Juri easily; the photo looked to have been taken   
within the last year or so. There was a tall, good-looking man   
to whom Juri bore a strong resemblance, and a petite woman to   
whom she didn't bear much of one. Her mother and father,   
presumably. Finally, there was someone she guessed was Juri's   
sister; a few years older, pretty but delicate, not looking   
anything like Juri. She hadn't known Juri had an older sister. 

There was a little bookshelf mounted on the wall above the   
desk, holding textbooks and a few novels. The novels all looked   
very literary and very boring, without a single mystery or   
thriller among them. She moved down to the desktop: the centre   
of it was taken up by a compact computer system, with notebooks   
for classes to one side, and a tray holding writing utensils and   
supplies to the other. Nothing interesting there, either. 

Checking the desk drawers revealed nothing. They held extra   
notebooks, loose paper, scissors, a stapler, a hole punch. All   
the supplies a dedicated student and Student Council Member would   
need. Didn't Juri have anything _interesting_? 

The thought occurred to Nanami that if Juri did have anything   
interesting that was easy to find, she wouldn't have let her   
go back to the apartment by herself. With a sigh, Nanami slid   
the final drawer of the desk closed. Then, on impulse, she   
pulled it open again and took out the stacked pile of lined   
paper. 

"Jackpot." She grinned, and pulled forth the little velvet-   
covered box that had been hidden in the corner. It was of the   
kind used to store jewelry, but if it were secreted like this, it   
had to mean there was something good in it... 

She opened it, caught a momentary glimpse of shattered links   
of chain and a flash of gold, and then heard the front door   
opening. Oh no, she thought, Juri will probably take this in   
entirely the wrong way. She'd thought she'd had the only key,   
but Juri had obviously just given her a spare. Or kept the   
spare. She couldn't say which, and it didn't matter. She had to   
hurry. The box was snapped closed, shoved back into the corner;   
the stacked paper followed. She hoped it looked even enough. 

Juri called her name. Her footsteps crossed the floor of   
the front room, heading for the bedroom. She closed the drawer,   
stood up, and hurried to open the bedroom door. Juri was right   
on the other side, hand extended towards the handle. 

"What were you doing in here?" she asked, eyes narrowing.   
The fact that she was dishevelled and a bit flushed in the face--   
probably from hurrying back in the rain--didn't make her look any   
less intimidating. 

"I was looking for a pillow," Nanami squeaked. She   
indicated her nightdress with a downward sweep of her hands.   
"See? All ready for bed. That couch looks nice and comfy." She   
smiled and giggled in a manner guaranteed to win Juri over. 

Juri started forward. Nanami moved aside to avoid being run   
down. Juri grabbed one of her bed's two large pillows and thrust   
it at Nanami, disarraying the neatly-made sheets as she did. 

"A pillow," she said, as though it were a threat.   
  
Nanami took it. "Thanks," she said, a little numbly. "I've   
never seen your hair like that. It looks nice. I didn't realize   
it was so long."   
  
Juri grimaced and ran her hands through the damp length of   
it. "I feel like a drowned rat." 

Nanami perked up. "Hey, I've got an idea--we could braid   
each other's hair! I bet you'd look cool with--" 

"Nanami!" Juri said sharply, cutting her off.   
  
"What?" Nanami asked, blinking and hugging the pillow to her   
chest. 

"This isn't a sleepover, and I'm not one of the cronies you   
sometimes call your friends. Don't treat me like I am. Now get   
out of my bedroom. I need to change." 

Wordless, wide-eyed, Nanami retreated back into the front   
room, closing the door behind her. Juri was so scary sometimes. 

She settled down on the couch and opened her magazine again.   
The articles, the sentences, even the kanji, seemed entirely   
without meaning. She wished she hadn't gone snooping through   
Juri's bedroom. Juri knew, she knew that she knew, and she was   
angry now. 

The bedroom door opened, closed. Juri came up, a silver-   
backed hairbrush in her hand. She'd changed into a pale blue,   
ruffle-throated nightdress. Nanami moved her feet to the floor   
to give Juri a seat on the couch. 

"So," Juri began as she sat, turning her head to the side to   
let her hair spill down over one shoulder for easy brushing,   
"what do you really intend to do, Nanami? You can't keep running   
forever." 

"I can try," Nanami muttered. "I'm not going home, Juri."   
  
Juri let out what might almost have been counted a sigh.   
"Look, Nanami," she said, "whatever's going on, you should face   
it." Her expression had softened considerably since the brief   
confrontation in the bedroom, and was almost tender now--a look   
Nanami had never seen on her. "Running from it will only make it   
worse." 

"You can't know that," Nanami said, scowling. At Miki, she   
would have snapped the words, in an attempt to drive him into   
docile silence; that wouldn't work on Juri, though. "Why does   
everyone insist on trying to give me advice?" 

"Because," Juri said, running the brush through her hair in   
long, even strokes, "you're acting like a foolish little child." 

"Well," Nanami muttered, "maybe you ought to just spank me   
then, if you're so grown-up and mature, and I'm such a child." 

Juri coughed lightly and turned her head a little so Nanami   
couldn't see any of her face at all. The brush sliding through   
her hair made a soft, pleasant, silky sound. 

"You're right," she said after a moment. "It's not my   
business. Do what you like. You've already heard my terms." 

"One night, on the couch," Nanami said.   
  
"That's right."   
  
Nanami opened the magazine and tried to make herself be   
interested in any of the articles. Fashion, television, quizzes,   
movie stars, boys; it all seemed so suddenly meaningless. She   
had run away from home, her brother wasn't her brother... the   
immensity of her tragedy was so great. How was she supposed to   
go on, when her brother, for whom her life was lived, wasn't   
her brother? Life was all a lie, a terrible, rotten lie. 

"Nanami?"   
  
She glanced over. "What?"   
  
Juri had put the hairbrush aside on the arm of the couch.   
"How _do_ you think I'd look with my hair braided?" 

Nanami raised her eyebrows and looked at Juri suspiciously.   
"You're in a really weird mood tonight, sempai, aren't you?" 

Juri smiled faintly. "Maybe I'm always like this at home,"   
she said. She pulled her legs up onto the couch, crossed them,   
and turned her back to Nanami. "Come on. Think you'll ever have   
this opportunity again? You can tell all your friends about it.   
Though they'll never believe you." 

After a moment, Nanami tossed her magazine onto the floor,   
swung her own legs up onto the couch, and almost hesitantly put   
her hands on Juri's hair. Long, thick, slightly wavy hair. A   
beautiful colour, too, burnished bronze to coppery fire depending   
on how the light hit it. Gorgeous hair, nearly as nice as hers. 

Her fingers worked quickly and dextrously. They didn't talk   
much while she braided: the occasional soft request for a   
differing tilt of neck from her to Juri was more or less the   
entirety. It didn't take long, and soon Juri's hair hung in two   
long, neat braids. 

Finished, she clapped her hands and smiled. "I was right--   
you do look cool." 

"Hmph," Juri said. She swung her legs off the couch and   
headed for the bathroom to see for herself, Nanami trailing her. 

"I look like I'm about eleven," Juri said as she looked in   
the mirror, with a stoniness Nanami couldn't say was genuine or   
not. Juri reached back and moved the braids so they draped over   
her shoulders. Then she smiled, and laughed softly. "I can't   
believe I let you do this, Nanami. I look utterly ridiculous." 

"No, you don't," Nanami said, pursing her lips. "You look   
cool. Don't you trust my fashion sense?" 

Juri just shook her head, smile fading a little, but not   
entirely disappearing. "What a night," she murmured, so quietly   
that Nanami was quite certain she was speaking only for   
herself--that perhaps she wasn't even aware, in that moment, that   
there was anyone else with her. "My, what a night..." 

"It's been a funny time for both of us, hasn't it, Juri?"   
she said quietly. "You, with Tsuchiya-sempai coming back, and me   
with, well..." She blinked, a thought suddenly occurring. "Hey,   
do you know why Tsuchiya-sempai stopped coming to school? Miki   
and I were wondering, and..." She trailed away; there was   
something funny in Juri's eyes, which she could only see   
reflected in the mirror before them as she stood behind her. 

"Actually, Nanami, I..."   
  
"What?"   
  
"Nothing. I'm not one to guess at Ruka's motives or   
actions." Juri's voice made it clear that it was a closed topic.   
  
"I wish I had a camera," Nanami said after a moment; the   
silence was too uncomfortable. "I'd really like a picture of you   
like this." 

"I wouldn't let you take one," Juri replied. She turned   
around. "Want me to do yours?" she offered. 

Nanami nodded. "Sure."   
  
They returned to the couch, sat down in almost a mirror   
image of their earlier positions, Nanami with her back to Juri.   
Juri's fingers, so agile on the hilt of a sword, struck Nanami as   
uncommonly clumsy at braiding hair. She pulled too hard very   
often, once so hard that Nanami yelped softly. 

"Sorry," Juri said, taking her fingers away for a moment.   
"I haven't braided hair, mine or anyone else's, for a long time." 

When Juri finished, they returned to the bathroom to look at   
the results. The single braid was rather clumsy compared to   
Nanami's handiwork, but adequate enough. They stood side by   
side before the full-length mirror on the shower doors to   
compare. 

"Braids are a little commonplace," Nanami said. "I'd never   
wear one in public." 

Juri tugged on one of hers and grimaced slightly. "Neither   
would I, but, like I said, they make me look like I'm about   
eleven. It suits you better." 

Nanami glanced at her. "Maybe you'd look better with a   
single braid..." 

"I think one session of hair braiding is enough for me   
tonight," Juri said. Nanami thought for a moment she was going   
to turn away and leave, but she didn't; just stood there, beside   
her, the two of them in their nightdresses, hair braided. She   
wished again she had a camera. 

"It's funny, you know," Nanami said after a moment. "If   
someone was looking at us, right now, they wouldn't think that   
there was anything exceptional about us." She paused. "Beyond   
our stunning beauty, of course. I just mean, they wouldn't   
think, 'Those two girls have fought duels in the sky, those two   
girls have fought for the Revolution'. They'd probably just   
think we were two friends, having a sleepover." Again, she   
paused. "Maybe even sisters, or something." 

"What a weird thing to say."   
  
Lightly, lingeringly, Juri's hand touched her back. They   
stood before the mirror, silent for what felt like a very long   
time, as though trapped by the eyes of their own reflections. 

"Sisters, huh?" Juri said eventually, and chuckled. Her   
hand left.   
  
"Thanks for letting me stay here, Juri," Nanami said. "Even   
if it's just for one night." 

"Yes," Juri murmured. "One night. That's all." She left   
the bathroom; Nanami followed. 

"I've got some work to get finished for school tomorrow,"   
Juri said, glancing at the wall clock: half past eight. "I'll be   
in my room." 

Nanami nodded. Juri headed into her room and closed the   
door behind her. The click of the latch held a certain sense of   
finality to it; the moment was clearly over, and probably would   
never come again. 

She sat down on the couch, picked up the magazine; then she   
sniffed dismissively and threw it down on the floor again. She   
leaned over, resting her forearm on the arm of the couch and   
pillowing her chin on them. Sisters. It _had_ been a weird   
thing to say. Embarrassing, too. She wished now that she hadn't   
said it. 

The notion was intriguing, though. It would probably be   
neat, having an older sister instead of an older brother.   
Especially someone like Juri, who was cool and tough and had   
superb fashion sense and great hair. 

It certainly couldn't be any worse than having the fake   
sibling that she did. She sighed, and watched the swaying   
pendulum of the wall clock. Back and forth, back and forth, from   
one extreme to another, permanently unable to find a mid-point.   
An uncomfortable existence, but it helped to keep the machinery   
running. 

She wanted to go home and throw herself into her brother's   
arms and act as though she didn't know. She wanted to get on a   
plane and go far, far away from here, and never come back. Why   
bother doing homework and trying to pretend that everything was   
normal when it _wasn't_ normal? When things could obviously   
never be normal again? 

Because you had to do something, she supposed. Otherwise,   
you were just alone with your thoughts. She opened up her   
satchel and did algebra worksheets with mechanical precision for   
the better part of an hour. She had to work slowly, checking and   
rechecking her answers, in order to get everything right. She   
wondered why she even bothered; Tsuwabuki would have a crib sheet   
ready for her next test. Tsuwabuki... maybe she could stay with   
him next...   
  
Gradually, she moved from sitting on the couch to work to   
lying down on it to work. A little before half past nine, she   
discovered her head was nodding, and that all the Xs and Ys and   
numbers were making even less sense to her than they usually did.   
She put her pencil and books down on the floor and rolled over   
onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. The couch was big   
enough that she didn't have to curl up to lie on it. She found   
her eyes closing, seemingly of their own volition. 

She dozed, caught somewhere between waking and sleeping.   
She had a brief but frightening dream, in which her brother   
seized her by the right arm and a shadowy figure seized her by   
the left, and they pulled until it seemed they would split her in   
half like a wishbone. At the last second, just before she was   
awakened by the sound of Juri's bedroom door opening, she saw   
that the shadowy figure had her brother's face. 

With the dream still lucid and fearful in her mind, she   
looked up at Juri. The wall clock was striking ten, slowly and   
softly. 

"I'm going to bed now," Juri said. Her hair was still in   
the two loose braids, one draped over her shoulder, one hanging   
down her back. "Do you want a blanket?" 

"No. I'm fine. It's a warm night."   
  
"All right, then. Good night. What time do you want me to   
wake you tomorrow?" 

"Whenever you get up is fine."   
  
"I get up quite early."   
  
"That's fine... how early?"   
  
"Five. I jog every morning."   
  
"You would," Nanami said, a little sourly. She rolled onto   
her side, away from Juri. "Wake me up when you get back from   
jogging." 

"All right."   
  
"Good night, Juri."   
  
"Just don't go snooping around while I'm gone again. Good   
night, Nanami."   
  
Nanami rolled back over to face Juri, words of denial and   
protest rising on her lips, but all she got was the sight of the   
bedroom door closing, with fuller weight of finality than before. 

* * * 

THREE   
  
* * *   
  
So the princess fled from her castle and her brother, and sought   
sanctuary with the nobles of the court. But their own houses   
were in turmoil, and she could not abide long with them. 

At last, she begged a bed for the night of the youngest lord   
of the court, who had long been enamoured of her. Had she taken   
refuge with him, her history might have been a different one--but   
such was not to be, for then came a prince to her, and he said,   
My palace is ever open to you, as it is to all damsels in   
distress. 

What happened next is well-known, for the princess came to   
discover the what darkness dwelt in the shadows of the prince's   
bright castle. Some say that her horror was great as it was   
because what she saw reflected the darker desires of her own   
heart. But some say otherwise, and none can know the truth.   
  
There was another princess, one who wished to be a prince,   
and the two princesses were adversaries. Some might call them   
opposites, for one was cruel were the other was kind, one was   
magnanimous where the other was selfish, one was petty where the   
other was forgiving. But things are never so simple as that, and   
some might say that the two of them were in truth more alike than   
any other two ladies of the court. 

At the end of the day, there was a victor and a vanquished,   
for that was all the rules of the game could allow. The victor   
went on, and her story is well enough known. 

The defeated, perhaps, returned docilely to her castle and   
to her brother, though due to cruel deception and cruel acts she   
believed him no longer her brother at all. There she calmly   
waited out her days until it had come time for the ending of the   
story. And, with the other lords and ladies, she said her pretty   
ending speeches and took her bows and then she went off to take   
on another role after the curtain had fallen. 

Or perhaps it was not so simple as that.   
  
* * * 

FOUR   
  
* * *   
  
His first inclination was to say no. He tended to go with first   
inclinations.   
  
"No."   
  
"Please?"   
  
"No." He began to close the door.   
  
"Kyouichi, I've got nowhere else to go."   
  
He paused. He didn't get called by his first name very   
often, which suited him fine; there were few who had the right to   
address him with such familiarity. He supposed that Nanami   
technically did, given how long she'd known him. 

But he didn't have to like it, and he didn't have to care.   
"Go home, Nanami. I want nothing to do with you, or with your   
brother, or with whatever troubles you're having." He started   
again to close the door. 

"He's not my brother!" She put her arm against the   
doorframe so that he couldn't close the door without crushing it.   
"Kyouichi, please." 

"Move your arm," he said coldly. What did she mean, Touga   
wasn't her brother? One of the more foolish things he'd heard   
recently. Probably another one of her childish delusions over   
some misunderstanding.   
  
"Please!"   
  
He heard the downstairs door open; footsteps, voices. Damn,   
he thought, I don't need this. Damn Touga. Damn Nanami.   
  
"Look, beyond the fact that I don't care, how do you think   
it's going to look if I have you staying here? First of all,   
it's against school regulations; second of all, think of the   
rumours; third, again, I don't care about you or your troubles.   
Now kindly move your arm so I can close the door." 

"Do you really hate me so much?" Nanami half-whispered, eyes   
shimmering as though she were about to burst into tears.   
Probably was; he didn't doubt that Nanami could cry at will. 

He regarded her with blank dismissal. "It's not that I hate   
you. I merely don't care. There's a great difference between   
active dislike and apathy. Look, go home to your brother; I've   
no interest in getting involved with this." 

"I told you, he's not my brother," she muttered.   
  
"Don't be stupid!" he snapped. "Of course he's your   
brother. I don't know how the hell you get these notions into   
your head, but--" 

"He told me the truth. We're not blood relations."   
  
Slowly, Saionji Kyouichi blinked. Then he opened the door   
with an inward sigh of resignation. "Look, just come in. It   
will be easier for me to point out your idiocy to you that way." 

"Thank you." She sounded absurdly grateful.   
  
He led her towards the small kitchen of his suite. "I heard   
all the rumours over the last few days; that you'd run away from   
home, had some kind of fight with your brother." 

"Oh."   
  
He pulled out a chair from the kitchen table. "Sit down."   
  
She sat. "Did you believe them?"   
  
"Believe what?"   
  
"The rumours."   
  
He shrugged as he opened a cupboard. "I didn't care enough   
to decide whether I believed them or not. I suspect it was all   
just part of whatever game your manipulative bastard of a brother   
is running with the Trustee Chairman." 

"How long have you known about that?" Her voice was soft,   
but tight like a spring.   
  
"Since the day I first returned to the Council after my...   
absence." He pulled down a small tin and put it down on the   
table. "I baked cookies yesterday. If you wish, you may have   
one." He gestured at the tin. 

Nanami just stared at him.   
  
"You've known for that long about what my brother was up to,   
about the identity of the Ends of the World, and... and... you   
didn't _tell_ us?" 

He looked at her flatly. "Why should I have? It's no   
concern of mine if you or Miki or Juri go blundering about making   
fools of yourselves. And, really, do you think any of you could   
have avoided your part in these rituals even if I had told you?" 

"I hate you!" she screeched; she was out of her chair and   
pummelling him about the head and chest and shoulders before he   
even had time to blink. "You... you... you jerk! Damn it, if   
you'd just told us..."   
  
"Ow! Stop it!" He put up his arms and managed to take most   
of the hits upon them, but she slipped one little fist through   
and nailed him hard in the ribcage, robbing him of breath.   
"Nanami," he gasped, "stop it, you crazy little bitch!" 

"Jerk!" She began to hammer against him as though against a   
locked door. "I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"   
Pitched so high, her voice grated on his ears like a file. And   
despite her small stature, the punches were hard, and hurt. 

Fed up, he grabbed her wrists and yanked her arms out to the   
sides, not with enough force to really hurt her. He twisted his   
body in time to catch the knee aimed at his groin against his   
hip, and roared "Stop it!" once again. 

For a moment, she struggled, and he actually found it hard   
to keep a grip on her wrists; then, the almost daemonic strength   
left her body, and she practically collapsed against him, letting   
out a seemingly heartfelt wail of anguish. 

He realized she was crying, had been for some time. Damn   
it, he really did not need this. He just _didn't_ care; even   
when she was just a little kid, Nanami had been an annoyance,   
clamouring for Touga's attention whenever she was around and   
sulking if she didn't get it immediately. They'd always had to   
sneak off to do things by themselves to make sure she wouldn't   
try and tag along, and when they got back, Nanami would come   
running up, and it would be nothing but Oh big brother where did   
you go, I thought you left me forever, and Don't worry, Nanami, I   
wouldn't do that to my little sister, until Nanami was satisfied   
that her big brother loved her and nobody but her, and then   
_maybe_, just maybe, she'd leave them alone for a while. 

He let her wrists go, and was shocked to find her arms wrap   
around his bruised ribcage, as she continued to sob pitifully   
against his chest.   
  
"Nanami, get off me," he said. "Stop crying. Pull   
yourself together. You're acting like a child." 

In response, her sobbing doubled. She clung to him as   
though he were all that was keeping her upright. Perhaps he was;   
it wasn't a role he cared for. He didn't like relying upon other   
people, or having them rely upon him, for anything. 

He didn't have any idea how to deal with an upset woman.   
Anthy had never cried. What a God-damn mess, he thought. Maybe   
if he just let her go on for a while, she'd stop. He should   
never have let her come in at all. More than that; he should   
never have even opened the door. 

Damn Touga. This was all his fault, somehow. Telling   
Nanami they weren't related by blood or something. He didn't   
believe it for a second. And even if it was true, he didn't get   
why it was such a big deal to Nanami; she'd lived like she was   
his sister for thirteen years, so what did it matter if she was a   
blood relative or not? Some people cared about the dumbest   
things.   
  
Damn it, when was she going to stop crying? What did she   
expect him to do? Give her a kiss and say everything was going   
to be fine, like he'd seen Touga do when she'd skinned her knee   
trying to ride his bike? Who the hell did she think he was,   
expecting him of all people to give her comfort? Who did she   
think she was, imposing upon him like this? 

Very awkwardly and uncertainly, he squeezed her shoulder.   
"Look, stop crying, okay? Crying never did anybody any good." 

Nanami raised her head and looked up at him. She looked   
horrible: red-faced, bleary-eyed, runny-nosed. The effect was   
almost comical, particularly when she was usually so elegant. 

"You're _smiling_!" she shrieked. He hadn't realized he   
was. "How can you be so insensitive?" 

"I'm sorry," he said. It came out quite insincerely.   
"It's only that you don't look very pretty when you're crying." 

She just stared at him for a moment, then shoved away from   
him, scowling and wiping fiercely at her eyes with the back of   
her hand. 

"I hate you," she muttered.   
  
"As you will." He shrugged and leaned back heavily against   
the counter, folding his arms and trying to look casual, despite   
the fact that his ribs really did hurt. "Are you quite   
finished?" 

"How can you treat me like this when we practically grew up   
together?" 

He frowned; the words were like a whiny echo of Touga, in   
their attempt to win him over by appealing to sentiments forged   
in youth that he no longer wished to hold. "Because I don't like   
you very much, Nanami. You play cute and innocent, but you're   
actually mean as a snake and twice as cunning, and you don't   
really care about anyone except yourself." He paused, reflecting   
for a moment on his own words as Nanami stared open-mouthed at   
him; he wondered if anyone had ever bothered to tell her what   
they really thought of her to her face. Perhaps it was past time   
somebody did. "And you remind me too much of your brother." 

"Don't compare me to him," she snapped. "And he's not my   
brother. Haven't you been listening to anything thing I've been   
saying?" 

"Yeah, and I don't believe any of it," he replied. "You're   
an idiot if you believe you're not blood relations just because   
Touga says so. Did you think to ask your mother or father?" 

Her silence was answer enough. He shook his head in   
disgust. "As I thought. You just blindly took his word for it.   
Haven't you realized by now that Touga's a deceptive bastard?" 

Nanami flinched; then, to his mild surprise, she smirked at   
him. "Don't you sound clever? Like you're the only one who   
knows what's really going on. But you know less than you think   
you do," she hissed. "You're just like Miki; so in love with the   
Rose Bride that you're blind to what she really is. She and her   
brother..." 

"I don't," he said icily, "have any desire to talk about   
Anthy with you." 

"Oh?" Nanami smirked at him. "So, you get to lecture me,   
but I don't get to lecture you?" 

He smirked right back. "Nanami, the day I show up on _your_   
doorstep asking to stay with you, feel free to lecture me all you   
want." He ran his eyes over her. "Go to the bathroom and clean   
yourself up, if you want; you look horrible." 

She turned away from him without a word, walked to the   
kitchen doorway, then looked back over her shoulder. "I really   
do hate you, you know. You were my last resort. I forgot just   
how much of a cruel jerk you are." 

He shrugged. "Sorry I'm not one to allow myself to be   
manipulated by sentiment. Your problems are none of my concern."   
  
Nanami gave him a withering scowl, and stomped off.   
  
When she returned, he was making tea, and had opened the   
cookie tin. "Go on, have one." He gestured at the neatly-   
arranged rows of cookies in the tin. "They've got macadamia   
nuts." 

"I hate macadamia nuts," Nanami muttered. But she sat down   
and ate one anyway, slowly. 

"Feel better now?" he asked, as he watched for signs of   
steam from the kettle. "I've heard tell that a good cry makes   
you feel better, although I think that's nonsense myself." 

"No. I don't feel any better."   
  
"You Duelled again, didn't you?"   
  
She took a moment to answer, during which the steam began to   
rise from the kettle's spout. He poured the boiling water into   
the teapot, over the bags of strong black tea that he favoured.   
"Yes. Just today." 

"Did you come here right after?" He left the tea to steep   
on the counter, sat down across from her, and took a cookie. He   
chewed thoughtfully; next time, more sugar, fewer nuts. 

"Yes. After I lost... Tenjou and Himemiya left. Then my   
brother left. And I couldn't think of anywhere else to go." 

"Did your brother say anything to you before he went?"   
  
"He told me he hoped I was done with all this nonsense now,   
and would come home like a good little sister," Nanami said   
sourly. "Well, to hell with that." 

"Smart." Saionji nodded approvingly and ate another cookie.   
"When you do go back, make sure you don't fall into his clutches   
again. He's a tricky bastard, your brother." 

"Thank you so much, Kyouichi; it's helpful for you to   
inform me of totally obvious facts." 

"You've demonstrated a talent in the past for missing what's   
right in front of you," he said bluntly. 

"You're one to talk."   
  
He scowled. "If you're going to bring up Anthy again, you   
can just leave right now." 

"You're still in love with her, aren't you?" she accused.   
  
He almost flinched. "How easy do you think it is to stop   
loving someone, anyway?" 

"It's not easy. Not easy at all." Her voice was very soft;   
she was admitting defeat in their verbal sparring. Or perhaps   
she simply didn't care to try and win any longer. 

The tea had steeped long enough. He got up and poured them   
each a cup. "Milk? Sugar?" 

"I hate black tea," she muttered. "Lots of both."   
  
He laughed. "You ought to be more gracious towards your   
host, Nanami-kun." 

"You're a shitty host," she muttered.   
  
"There's a saying about beggars and choosers, isn't there?"   
He set down her teacup before her; it had turned a pale brown   
from the amount of milk he'd added. Out the window, night was   
oncoming, and the sun had entirely set. "Just so we get things   
straight: you're definitely not staying the night here." 

"I wouldn't want to anyway." She drank her tea, grimaced.   
"It's too sweet." 

"Do you ever do anything other than complain and beat people   
up when they're kind to you?" He sat back down with his tea. 

She snorted softly. "You're incapable of being kind."   
  
"I don't act dishonest and hide my true self so that people   
won't think badly of me, if that's what you mean." 

"It's not."   
  
He sipped his tea; hot enough almost to scald his mouth,   
dark and bitter. "So, after tea and conversation, you go home." 

"I'm not going home."   
  
"Don't be stupid. Where are you going to stay the night?"   
  
"I'm _not going home_."   
  
His laughter was harsh and sharp. "Right. You're so   
pampered you won't last a day without someone else to rely on.   
And, if I understand you right, you've already tried Miki and   
Juri." 

She kept her silence, and glared balefully at the top of the   
table. Then she raised her head and said, "Tenjou said before   
she left that I could come and stay with them again if I needed   
to. With her and the Rose Bride and the Ends of the World." She   
laughed, a little choke in it. "Isn't that priceless? She has   
no idea what those two are really up to. And she's got a crush   
on the Trustee Chairman." 

"Serves the bitch right," Saionji said coldly. "She'll get   
what's coming to her in the end." 

"So cruel..."   
  
"Don't act self-righteous. You hate her as much as I do."   
  
"What's it all for, Kyouichi? The Revolution, I mean."   
  
"Like I said, it's a ritual." He had only come to the   
conclusion himself some days ago, but chose to act as though it   
had been his opinion all along. "You know how rituals ends,   
right?" 

"No."   
  
"With a sacrifice." He smiled; a small, almost hidden,   
secretive smile, to disguise his own fear and trepidation. 

"It's horrible," Nanami murmured. "I should try and   
transfer schools again. Get out of here, before it comes..." 

He chuckled. "Do you really think you'll be allowed to   
leave this place so easily?"   
  
She went a little pale. "No. I don't think I would be.   
Maybe I should just run... I've got a trust fund. I could get   
money somehow. Go far away from here." 

"You wouldn't last a day on your own, Nanami."   
  
"And you would?"   
  
"I'm not the one thinking about running away, am I?"   
  
"Maybe you should be."   
  
He frowned. "I'm not a coward. I won't run."   
  
"You'd run too," she intoned, "if you'd seen the kind of   
things I've seen." 

"What are you talking about? Stop dancing around and just   
come out and say it." 

"The Rose Bride and her brother... the things they get up   
to..." She closed her eyes and put a hand over her mouth, as   
though trying to keep her voice sealed away; but it came out all   
the same, though muffled. "It's awful. Unnatural. Disgusting." 

"Lies," he said slowly, finally beginning to understand what   
she was hinting at. "Don't say such filth. I won't hear it." 

"Just like Utena. You won't _see_."   
  
He banged his hands on the table hard enough to make their   
teacups bounce and almost spill; Nanami jumped a little in her   
seat, looking suddenly fearful. "Lies," he hissed. "Watch your   
mouth, Nanami, or--" 

"Or what? You'll slap me?" She glared at him. "I'll hit   
you right back, twice as hard and ten times more. I'm not a   
submissive little sister like the Rose Bride, believe me." 

He deflated a little. Then, slowly, he asked, "Does Touga   
know about this? I mean, he's been running about with the   
Deputy Chairman, and..." 

"Know?" Nanami whispered. "Know? He tried to..."   
  
"What?" he asked, almost desperately, as she trailed off.   
  
"I can't." She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked   
slightly in her chair. "I can't even..." 

Saionji felt an acid nausea begin to bubble in the depths of   
his stomach. He stared into the black depths of his tea, almost   
convinced his faint, dark reflection was staring back at him with   
accusation in its tea-dark eyes. 

"You're wrong," he said finally.   
  
She didn't say anything at all.   
  
Slowly, he stood up.   
  
"Come on," he said. He held out his hand, as though to help   
her rise. 

She stood on her own, frowning. "What?"   
  
"I'm taking you home."   
  
"I won't go!"   
  
"Did I ask your agreement?"   
  
"You can't make me--"   
  
"Look, you can either come peacefully with me to talk to   
your brother, or I can throw you over my shoulder and drag you   
home kicking and screaming." He sneered at her. "And if you   
don't think I'm capable of that, Nanami, then you really don't   
know me." 

"Bastard," she snarled. She looked as though the only thing   
preventing her from crying again was how much she despised him.   
"I hate you." 

"You repeat yourself unecessarily. Come on."   
  
Outside, the night was warm and a little humid. He led the   
glaring Nanami around to the side of the dorm building, where the   
bike racks were, and knelt down to unlock his bike. 

"It's a long walk," he said by way of explanation. "This   
will be faster." 

"Touga used to give me rides on the back of his bike," she   
said softly. 

"Yeah," Saionji replied after a moment, standing up and   
wheeling his bike out of the metal frame of the rack, "me too."   
He moved it out into the front street; the traffic on the roads   
was light, with few cars. There wasn't much night life in this   
city, under usual circumstances. 

"Do I really have to go back?" she asked in a small,   
defeated voice, as he swung his leg over and settled down onto   
the seat. 

He looked back at her, a slender shape in the night, and   
felt an uncharacteristic stab of compassion and empathy. He'd   
told her she was acting like a child earlier, but how surprising   
was that? How old was she again? Twelve, thirteen? He tried to   
remember when her birthday was, and couldn't. 

"Yeah," he said at last. "You do. Hop on." He patted the   
rim guard over the back wheel, the same place he'd always used to   
sit when he rode with Touga. 

Nanami perched on it, grimacing. "It's uncomfortable," she   
complained. "No padding." 

"It's not far," he said. He was surprised at how soft his   
voice had become. Perhaps it was simply the acoustics of the   
night. "Hang on tight to me so you don't fall off." 

She grudgingly wrapped her arms around his waist. He   
gripped the handlebars, flicked on the bike's light so he could   
see the way, lifted his feet to the pedals, and they were off.   
Nanami tightened her grip as the wind began to blow through his   
hair; the small, soft shapes of her breasts pressed against his   
back, and she laid her head between his shoulder-blades 

"You don't have to hang on _that_ tight," he muttered as he   
worked the petals with all his strength, so that the night rushed   
by and blurred around them. 

"I don't want to fall," she whimpered, sounding terrified.   
"Do you have to go so fast?" 

"No," he replied. They reached an intersection; he whipped   
the bike to the left in a quick turn, and Nanami let out a tiny   
shriek. "But I like to." 

"Please," she whispered. "Please, just slow down a little."   
  
"I know what I'm doing." 

"Please!"   
  
Cars moved by them like large, sluggish fish beside a   
darting minnow. The headlights bathed them in light, glistening   
off his bike's reflectors and occasionally threatening to blind   
him. Nanami let out a strangled sound and pressed even harder   
against him. 

The road began to slant upwards; he shifted gears to climb   
it, and Nanami let out a sigh of relief as they slowed down. 

"Thank you," she murmured. "Thank you, thank you, thank   
you, oh, God, I thought I was going to die, how could you go so   
_fast_--" 

They reached the peak of the hill, and started down.   
  
"OhshitohshitohshitohshitIhateyouIhateyouyoubastard!"   
  
He laughed, and the wind caught it up and mingled it with   
Nanami's yells and sent both their voices hurtling away into the   
night sky towards the passionless stars. They coasted down the   
hill at what felt like hundreds of miles an hour, weaving between   
cars that honked their horns as they whipped past, whose drivers   
leaned out the window to shout at them. Crazy kids, maniacs! 

He applied the brakes gingerly, gradually slowing them, and   
put his feet back on the pedals. A few more turns, and they were   
in front of the gates of the Kiryuu mansion. Nanami didn't say   
anything the rest of the way, merely clinging to his back like a   
little blonde limpet. 

The gates were open. Even when they had come to a complete   
halt, Nanami still had her arms wrapped around them, as though   
she didn't believe it was actually over. 

"Are you paralysed?" he asked.   
  
"Bastard," she half-stuttered, slowly removing her arms   
and stumbling away from the bike. "I'm going to be walking   
funny for days," she said, wincing and rubbing her hips. 

He wheeled his bike over and leaned it against the wall by   
the gates, which were open wide as though in expectation of them.   
"I haven't ridden down a hill like that in years," he said,   
taking a deep breath of night air. "Fun, wasn't it?" 

"No."   
  
He glanced at her, smiling. "But don't you feel _alive_?"   
he asked. "Like everything's more... real, somehow?" 

She glowered at him. "No."   
  
He shrugged. "Well, don't worry; you won't ever have to do   
it again. Come on." 

Nanami didn't move.   
  
"Come on." He took her by the arm, firmly but gently, and   
led her through the gates. 

* * *   
  
Brass called, strings swept; the timpani rolled like the rolling   
of thunder. The music built until it seemed it could build no   
more--and then it did, and the climax went on, and on, and   
finished at last, leaving only silence as the last echo faded. 

He stood at the unbroken window that should have been broken   
and watched the night, wondering where his sister was; what she   
was doing, who she was with. The Bruckner symphony was ended.   
After a moment, he crossed the floor to the gramophone, took the   
record off, and replaced it in its sleeve. 

Unbroken window. Should have been broken, letting in night   
breezes, night sounds... a spray of glass should have lain   
glinting across the floor. 

He ran a hand through his hair; it came away sweaty. He put   
the record back on the shelf, and flipped through the collection;   
the sleeves were faded, but in good condition. Some of them   
belonged to his father, but most of were his own acquisitions. 

Rostropovich and von Karajan; the Dvorak concerto; nineteen   
sixty-nine. One of the original German LPs. Unbroken window.   
Cross the floor, lift the arm, place the record upon the   
turntable, position the needle... 

This was the same room, was it not? But, if so, why was the   
window unbroken? If you drove a car through a window, it should   
stay broken, he thought. It was not right for it to be another   
way. 

The music began, sweet enough to tear the heart out. Dvorak   
had been one of the last of the unashamed romantics. He'd died   
before twelve-tone and minimalism and serialism and neo-   
classicism and all the other -isms. He'd been lucky, in a way. 

He hoped to God that wherever Nanami was, she hadn't gone   
back to the Chairman's tower. He didn't think she would--no, he   
knew she wouldn't go back there. But where, then?   
  
Her lips had been small, and soft, and he'd tasted them only   
briefly before she'd flung him away from her with a shocking   
strength. He was almost certain it would have been her first   
real kiss. His own sister.   
  
And how did you come to this state, Mr. President?   
  
Well, you see, it all began when I met a girl in a coffin,   
and I couldn't save her... 

And this chivalry of yours, is that all just an act?   
  
I don't think I want to answer that question right now.   
  
And do you think what you did to your sister was right, Mr.   
President? 

I don't know what's right. Or wrong, either. But was it   
really so terrible for her? Didn't it force her to realize what   
she really wanted? 

Wouldn't it have been easier to just _talk things over with   
her_, Mr. President? Aren't you merely justifying what you would   
have had to do anyway? After all, the Duels must be fought; for   
the Revolution of the world! 

I don't--   
  
Mr. President, just what are the ends of the Ends of the   
World? Do you know? Do you? 

Someone knocked at the door.   
  
"Come in," he called, over the bowing of the cello and the   
accompaniment of the orchestra. Perhaps Nanami was finally home;   
or it might be his mother, asking if he'd had any word about   
Nanami from any of his friends, what about Kyouichi, did you call   
him and see? She might have gone to him, you know, the two of   
you are such good friends, and why haven't I seen him around the   
house lately? Did something happen? 

No, Mother; don't worry about it. Things will be fine.   
Nanami will be home soon, I'm sure. He'd given her a good cover   
story; I think she found out about the adoption, somehow, Mother,   
and you know how upset she can get over things. 

They'd only told him a year ago, and asked him to keep it   
from Nanami. Not that he hadn't already figured it out years   
before. He had his ways. 

The door opened; he turned away from the unbroken window.   
  
"Saionji," he said, hiding his surprise as easily as he   
concealed anything else.   
  
"Touga," Saionji replied neutrally, closing the door behind   
him. He looked around the room; at last, his eyes returned to   
and fixed on Touga. "I brought your sister home." 

"Thank you." He walked slowly over to Saionji, keeping a   
little distance between them. "Where is she?" 

"In the hall. I said I wanted a private word with you   
first." 

"Yes?"   
  
Saionji crossed his arms and cocked his head, apparently   
listening to the music. "That's nice. What is it?" 

"Dvorak."   
  
"Your mother's relieved to see Nanami back."   
  
"Oh? You talked to her?"   
  
"Just a little. You know how much I hate being thanked for   
anything." 

He smiled faintly. "Of course you do. It makes you feel   
like you have some sort of obligation to people, which you hate." 

"And you don't?"   
  
"Of course not; I'm chivalrous."   
  
"You're full of shit," Saionji snapped, eyes narrowing.   
  
"Don't lose your temper." He held out his hand. "You   
brought my sister back. Does this mean you want to be friends   
again?" 

After a moment, Saionji took his hand, scowling as he did.   
Touga clasped his other hand over it and let his smile grow.   
"There. That wasn't so hard, was it?" 

"No." Saionji smiled back.   
  
The blow was dirty and unexpected, and it left Touga   
gasping on the floor for air that simply would not cooperate and   
allow him to draw it. 

"That was a really lousy thing to do to your sister, Touga,"   
Saionji said almost conversationally. "Even for you. I knew   
you'd become an ass-kissing lackey for Ends of the World, but I   
didn't think even you would try to rape your own sister." 

Touga rolled over onto his back. "Saionji--" he managed to   
croak. He felt as though he were going to throw up at any   
moment. 

"Shut up," Saionji snarled, looming over him. "Shut up, or   
I'll kick your head in. I actually thought better of you than   
that. You're scum, Touga. I'd spit on you, but I don't want to   
waste the saliva." 

He knelt down, grabbed Touga by the collar, and jerked him   
upright. The motion almost broke the hold Touga had on not   
bringing up his dinner. He didn't think he'd ever been hit so   
hard in the stomach before. 

"Now you listen to me," he hissed. "You can get up to   
whatever you want with the Chairman and whatever game he's   
playing with Tenjou Utena, because I don't give a shit about you   
or him or that stuck-up bitch, but you touch your sister again   
and I'll kill you." 

"Since when did you care so much about Nanami?" The nausea   
was retreating a little, thank goodness; he expected he'd be able   
to breathe normally again in a year or so. 

Saionji let him go and stood up. Touga sat on the floor,   
drawing hesitant breaths and clutching his stomach. 

"I don't, much," Saionji said, stepping back and turning   
away from Touga. "It's the principle of the thing." 

"Saionji?"   
  
"What?"   
  
Touga's tackle caught him about the waist in mid-turn.   
They went down together on the floor in a tangle of limbs; Touga,   
who never fought angry, calmly seized Saionji by the hair and   
banged his forehead against the floor to gain the advantage. The   
Dvorak played sedately in the background as he grabbed Saionji's   
flailing arms and pinned them, then dug one knee into the small   
of his back. 

"That was a dirty blow, Saionji," he said, with coolness he   
didn't feel. "I thought you had more honour than that." 

"Go to hell," Saionji snapped. He struggled, but Touga had   
too much leverage. "Once I get loose, I'll make you--" 

Touga banged his head against the floor again. "Shut up,   
fool, and listen to me. I don't know what Nanami told you, but   
it didn't happen like that." 

"Get off me!" Saionji writhed like a fish out of water, and   
nearly managed to throw Touga off. "Damn it!" 

"You started this. Don't be such a poor sport."   
  
"You're the one who started this! How the hell did you end   
up licking the boots of Ends of the World, anyway? I didn't   
think you'd ever end up as someone's servant; you had too much   
pride." 

"It's a long story. You haven't got the time to hear it,   
and I don't want to tell it to you anyway."   
  
"Fine. Now let me up, Touga!"   
  
"Didn't you threaten to kill me just a moment ago? Why   
should I let you up, if you're going to be a danger to me?" 

There was a knock at the door. Touga looked back. "Just a   
minute!" he called. 

Saionji slipped an arm free in Touga's moment of distraction   
and clubbed him in the side of the head with his forearm. Touga   
reeled and Saionji hurled him off with a twist of his body. They   
came up from the floor almost simultaneously, fists bunched and   
held up before them.   
  
The first movement allegro of the Dvorak swelled to a   
crescendo. Saionji stepped forward, clumsily jabbing the air   
with his fists in wasted aggressive motions; Touga retreated,   
trying not to smile. His stomach still hurt like hell, and his   
head was aching, but he felt oddly good. 

"Stop running!"   
  
"And let you hit me? No thanks."   
  
"Coward!"   
  
Again, the knocking.   
  
"Come in!" Touga called, dancing away from Saionji's blows   
as he did.   
  
Nanami opened the door, looked at the two of them, and   
blinked. Saionji glanced briefly at her, which gave Touga the   
opportunity to punch him in the jaw. He staggered back; Touga   
followed up with two light jabs to the stomach. 

"You should have taken those boxing classes with me back in   
our freshman year, Saionji-kun," he said. "I found them very   
informative." 

Saionji stepped right into another stomach jab, snarling,   
eyes wild; Touga tried to move back, but was too slow, and then   
Saionji had him by the throat. Touga gasped as Saionji tightened   
his hands, and grabbed him by the throat in turn. 

Nanami just stared for a split second. Then she started   
yelling.   
  
"What are you two doing? You said you were going to _talk_   
to him, not kill him! Stop it! Stop it right now!" 

"He started it," Touga gasped in an air-choked whisper.   
He'd forgotten how _strong_ Saionji was...   
  
Saionji's eyes were bulging, and smouldered like jade coals.   
"Liar! You started it!"   
  
"I don't care who started it!" Nanami howled. "Just stop   
it!" 

Touga caught Saionji's eye; some mutual agreement passed   
between them, and they both released their grips and backed away   
from each other, sucking air and rubbing their throats. Touga   
flopped down into a chair near the unbroken window; Saionji   
slumped against the wall nearby. 

"When was the last time we had a fight like that?" Touga   
asked after a moment. 

Saionji appeared to think upon it briefly. "When we were in   
our second year of junior high, I think."   
  
"What was it over, again?"   
  
"I don't even remember any more. Maybe a girl?"   
  
Touga nodded, still massaging his throat. "It was a long   
time ago."   
  
Slowly, he began to laugh. It hurt. After a moment,   
Saionji joined in. 

Nanami looked from one to the other, puzzled and angry and   
confused. "I hate you both!" she snapped finally, spinning on   
her heel and heading for the door. "I should have just let you   
strangle each other. I'd have been better off." 

"Nanami," Touga called.   
  
Somewhat to his surprise, she turned back, glaring icily at   
him. "What?" 

"Get us some ice packs, would you? We could use them." 

Saionji nodded. He sat down on the floor and gingerly   
touched his forehead, wincing as he did. "My life seems to   
consist of being beaten up or used by the Kiryuu siblings these   
days," he muttered. 

Nanami's teeth ground together audibly as she left the room,   
slamming the door behind her.   
  
"Is she actually going to get us ice packs?" Saionji asked,   
sounding genuinely interested. 

"I'd give it good odds," Touga replied.   
  
Saionji shook his head, then looked from his grimacing   
expression as though he wished he hadn't. "What actually   
happened between you two, anyway?" 

"She had to duel again. One way or the other."   
  
"Yes." Saionji snorted. "I just bet she did. And that   
was the only way, was it?" 

"Probably not," Touga said evenly. He rested an elbow on   
the arm of the chair and cupped his chin lightly with one hand.   
"But it was how he wanted to do it." The admission came with   
surprising difficulty; he might as well have said it straight   
out: Saionji, I'm not in control anymore. I haven't been for a   
long time. 

Saionji seemed almost to hear the unspoken words; his   
expression softened slightly. "He's a real bastard, isn't he?"   
  
"Yes. But so am I, so we get along all right."   
  
Saionji smirked cynically. "So, which one's the act?"   
  
"Hrm?"   
  
"I remember you saying all those things about chivalry when   
we were kids, but it always sounded like you actually believed   
it. Why are you doing this, Touga? What are you aiming for?"   
Saionji chuckled dryly and sat down cross-legged on the floor,   
head and back resting against the wall. "What do you want to   
be?" 

Touga didn't answer.   
  
"What did you do to her, anyway?"   
  
"A kiss."   
  
Saionji looked dubious. "That all?"   
  
"That was all."   
  
Scowling, Saionji punched the floor. "She made it sound a   
hell of a lot worse than it was, then." 

"It was bad enough for her," Touga said quietly.   
  
Saionji just glared at the floor.   
  
Touga took a gamble. "Seeing the Chairman and his sister   
didn't do her much good either." 

The look of pure venom that Saionji shot him told him it had   
paid off; Nanami had told him, or hinted at it in such a way that   
Saionji had figured it out. 

"That kind of thing's unnatural," Saionji muttered   
eventually.   
  
"So, that's what this was all about," Touga concluded,   
unable to suppress a condescending smirk. "I got to be the   
Chairman's proxy, and Nanami got to stand in for Himemiya for   
you. How noble, in a rather deluded fashion; how very like you,   
Saionji." 

"Don't psychoanalyse me, Touga. I always hate when you get   
up to that."   
  
The first movement ended; the second--adagio ma non troppo--   
began. Touga shifted in his chair; Saionji glared at the floor   
between his legs. The music filled the silence like water in a   
vessel. 

"Izanagi and Izanami, though brother and sister, fathered   
all the gods of Japan," Touga said, after some time had passed   
between them without any talk at all. 

Saionji looked quizzically at him. "What was that you   
said?"   
  
"I think about that story sometimes these days," Touga   
replied, distantly. "Do you know it?" 

"Of course." Saionji seemed annoyed that Touga even   
considered it possible he didn't.   
  
"When Izanami died giving birth to fire, Izanagi descended   
into the underworld to rescue her. But he found she had become a   
dead thing, queen of worms and corpses. She tried to force him   
to stay with her in the darkness, but he escaped her, and sealed   
the way behind him, leaving her unable ever again to reach the   
light." 

"I said that I knew the story, didn't I?"   
  
"I know," Touga murmured. "I know."   
  
Saionji said, "What the hell are they, Touga?"   
  
"Fallen gods. Fallen angels." He shrugged. "I don't   
know." 

Saionji whistled softly. "Well, I'll be damned."   
  
"Perhaps. Perhaps not."   
  
"Hey, Touga?"   
  
Touga raised his head and met Saionji's eyes. There was an   
oddly childish lilt in his old friend's voice; he remembered it   
well. Hey, Touga, wait for me; you're running too fast; I can't   
keep up with you. Wait up! 

"Yes?"   
  
"You told me that the Chairman was the one who saved that   
girl... the one who was in the coffin. That he showed her   
something eternal." 

"Yes?"   
  
"Did you see it too?"   
  
Before Touga could answer, the door opened, and Nanami   
stalked in, an ice pack in each hand. She glared at Touga and   
tossed it to him with a hard overhand throw; he caught it, smiled   
and thanked her, and gladly pressed it to the aching side of his   
head. 

Body language radiating total disdain for Touga, Nanami   
knelt down by Saionji and gently offered him the ice pack.   
"Here, Kyouichi." 

Saionji took it and held it to his forehead. "Thanks."   
  
Nanami took a few steps back, then sat down on the floor,   
near the table that the gramophone rested on, legs curled beneath   
her. She looked from one boy to the other, then away, lips   
pressed into a tight frown. 

"It's good to see you home," Touga offered.   
  
"Shut up."   
  
He held up a hand defensively. "Come now, Nanami..."   
  
"I said, shut up."   
  
Saionji switched the ice pack to his jaw and smiled   
faintly. "Want me to leave the two of you alone to talk?" 

"You're welcome to leave any time you choose," Nanami said   
frostily. She folded her arms and glared. "I'm still trying to   
decide which one of you I hate more right now." 

"Him." Saionji jerked a thumb in Touga's direction.   
  
Touga nodded, tried not to smile. "Saionji's not the most   
pleasant of men, but he's a saint compared to me." 

Nanami looked at him with undisguised disgust. "This really   
is just a game to you, isn't it?" she asked softly. "You don't   
care who gets hurt at all. Kyouichi, or me, or anyone else." 

He almost winced; but control, control was everything. "I   
take my games seriously." 

"If you have weaknesses, people will take advantage of   
them," Saionji said, voice muffled slightly by the positioning of   
the ice pack. "But you only learn to fear fire by getting burned   
by it." His voice dropped to an intense whisper. "Burn down   
before you build up." 

"You're both full of it," Nanami snapped. She glared at   
Saionji, slightly wounded and trying to hide it. "And I can't   
believe you're taking his side." 

"I'm not taking anyone's side," Saionji rebuffed. "I'm just   
commenting. I'm here for myself alone." He stood up. "On that   
note, it's late, and tomorrow's a school day. Mind if I keep   
the ice pack for now? I'll return it when I'm finished with it,   
of course." 

Touga nodded. "Go ahead."   
  
"Gonna be a long walk home in the dark," Saionji said as he   
walked towards the door. "But I don't want to ride my bike home   
when my head feels like this." 

"I could call you a cab--"   
  
Saionji silenced him with a wave of his hand. "Nope. I'm   
not going to be in your debt for anything. Sorry." He opened   
the door, stepped out into the hallway, turned. "You know, you   
are still technically part of the kendo team, Touga; it wouldn't   
hurt you to stop by for practice once in a while." 

"No," Touga said evenly, "it probably wouldn't."   
  
Saionji turned his gaze to Nanami. "Nanami."   
  
She raised her head and narrowed her eyes at him. "What?"   
  
"You take care of yourself," Saionji said, with something   
Touga might almost have called warmth. "Don't let your brother   
use you again, because he will if you give him the opportunity." 

"Thank you for the advice," Nanami said ungratefully.   
  
Saionji waved, closed the door, and was gone.   
  
Touga waited a few moments, then said, "Can I talk to you   
now without being told to shut up?" 

Nanami didn't answer.   
  
"If it helps," he continued neutrally, "I'm sorry that you   
got hurt, Nanami. But you have to understand my point of view--" 

"No." She stood. "I don't have to understand your point of   
view at all." She opened the door; the adagio swelled poignantly   
as though timed to her actions. "I don't think I want to." 

She slammed the door behind her.   
  
Touga sat in the chair and waited for the Dvorak to end, and   
tried not to think of anything at all. His stomach hurt. 

* * *   
  
When she was very young, sometimes she'd grow scared after she   
was put to bed, on moonless nights, usually, when the darkness   
was so very thick. Then she'd leave her bedroom and go down the   
hallway to her brother's room. Quietly, very quietly, she'd open   
the door and enter and quietly, very quietly, she'd crawl into   
his bed, beside him.   
  
Sometimes, he was awake, and he'd say, What's wrong, Nanami?   
  
And she would always say, Big brother, the night was trying   
to eat me again. 

And he would always laugh, and say that was silly, because   
the night itself couldn't eat you. Then he would say, Pretend   
that the darkness is the ocean, and this bed is a boat, with just   
the two of us in it, and we are sailing to a pleasant land where   
it is always summer. 

Just the two of us?   
  
Yes, just the two of us.   
  
And they'd lie there together. Sometimes he would hold her,   
and eventually the rhythms of their breathing would synchronize,   
until they seemed as though they had but one single set of lungs   
between them. And to her it would seem like the rising and   
falling of their breath was like the rise and fall of the waves,   
and beneath her the bed would seem to undulate as it floated upon   
the wine-dark sea. 

And other times, he would be asleep, and she would just lie   
there in silence beside him until sleep took her too. And she   
never, ever had nightmares beside her big brother. 

How old had she been, the last time she'd done that? Maybe   
eight. Eight, the last time she'd done it, and he'd let her   
stay. Then it had been, Nanami, don't be silly, you're a big   
girl now, you're too big to be scared of the dark, too big to   
need to sleep with your big brother. Every time after that, he   
sent her back, by herself. And the walk back down the hall to   
her room took forever, because it was so very dark. 

There _were_ things in the dark to be afraid of, and if the   
night itself couldn't eat you, plenty of things that lurked in   
the night could, and would, and wanted to. 

But Touga had been right. She was a big girl now and she   
didn't need any kind of brother at all, especially not a false   
one. She didn't need anyone. Everyone she knew was horrible   
anyway, in their own particular way. They were cruel or   
insensitive or ignorant or mean or uncaring or stupid. She   
didn't need them. 

She didn't mind being here by herself in her room, with the   
lights out. She was still dressed, lying atop the neatly-made   
covers, staring at the shadows. It was very dark. But she   
wasn't scared. Only babies were scared of the dark. Scared of   
being alone. She wasn't some weirdo like Tenjou, needing to   
practically sleep in the same bed as her so-called friend-- 

There came a knocking at the door.   
  
"Go away!" she called.   
  
"Nanami, honey, can't I come in?"   
  
She sat up, surprised. "Mama? Yes, of course."   
  
The door opened slowly, an air of hesitation to it, and her   
mother came in. Her adopted mother. Whatever. It was hard to   
think of her as anything other than her mother, though, whatever   
their real relationship might be. 

"Can I turn the lights on?"   
  
"If you want."   
  
The sudden shift from dark to bright made her close her   
eyes momentarily. Her mother, who had probably been very pretty   
when she was younger, came and sat down on the edge of the bed. 

"I'm glad you're home, Nanami."   
  
Those exact words had already been said when Kyouichi had   
practically presented her to her mother, but Nanami decided not   
to point that out. "Okay." 

"You scared me, running away like that. Scared me a lot. I   
mean, even when Touga found out you were staying with your   
friends, I was scared. I wanted to... I don't know. I wanted to   
try and talk to you. I wanted your father to come home. But   
Touga said he'd handle things. And he did, I guess. Because   
you're home now." 

"Okay."   
  
"I guess you were pretty shocked to find out. Maybe we   
should have told you earlier. But we decided we'd tell each of   
you when you turned sixteen, and it seemed to work okay for   
Touga, and... I'm sorry, honey. It must have been a real shock.   
Touga said you found out because of the blood types. We never   
thought of that." 

"It's okay."   
  
"Is there anything you want to know?"   
  
"Are Touga and I related by blood?"   
  
Her mother looked a little surprised at the question. "Yes.   
We adopted the two of you together; we couldn't have done it any   
other way." She looked at her hands, which were twitching a   
little; Nanami recognized it as a sign she wanted a cigarette.   
"It's a strange story, you know. You want to hear it?" 

"Of course I want to hear it," Nanami said, a little   
peevishly. "Don't you think I want to know who I really am?" 

Her mother said something under her breath, too quiet for   
her to hear. 

"What's that?"   
  
"I said, doesn't everybody?"   
  
She edged a little closer to her mother. "Tell me the   
story, Mama." 

"The two of you showed up on our doorstep one morning. One   
of the maids found you. Touga was about five--that was what the   
doctors estimated--and you were only a baby. He was holding you   
in his arms, and he was dressed really nice; a little blue suit.   
And all he would say was, 'My name is Touga. This is my sister,   
Nanami. Will you take care of us?' And then when I said I   
would, he didn't say anything else, for six months. Nobody could   
get him to talk. We spent a lot of money on private   
investigators after the police gave up looking, but no one ever   
found out anything about who your real parents might be. Very   
strange." 

"Yes." The story simply didn't seem to register, on top of   
everything else. So Touga and her were related by blood. Big   
deal. He was still a bastard whom she wanted nothing at all to   
do with. "Why didn't he talk?" 

"The first thing he said after that was, 'Mother, Nanami is   
crying.' He always talked so proper when he was little; it was   
adorable. After that, he talked normally, but if your father or   
me or anyone else tried to ask him about things that had happened   
before he came here, he just wouldn't say anything. Nothing   
would make him talk about that." 

"Oh." Her mother hadn't actually answered the question, but   
she decided not to pry. "That is a strange story." 

"I've read some things. A book. Several books. I think I   
probably know the kinds of things you're thinking right now. Why   
you ran away. Just... well, don't. Your father and I don't love   
you any less because you're adopted. We always want you to be a   
part of this family, you and your brother. You two were like a   
miracle." Her mother smiled; it made the ghost of her beauty   
drift higher in the lines of her face. "They said I probably   
never could have children, you know. We tried, and tried, and   
finally we gave up. And then you two showed up, like you'd   
fallen from heaven for us." 

The words gave little comfort. They weren't even close to   
the kinds of thoughts she had. But she supposed they were meant   
well enough, even though they might as well have come from an   
entirely different world than the one she lived in now. "I'm   
sorry I ran away, Mama. I know you love me. I love you too."   
The words came easily, almost mechanically. 

"We haven't spent a lot of time together lately, have we,   
honey?" 

"Not really."   
  
"You and Touga both seem to be growing up so fast these   
days, and you're both so busy with school, with the Student   
Council... I don't know. I'm sorry if I've been rather distant   
lately." 

"It's okay."   
  
"Is there anything you want to talk about? I mean, you're   
thirteen now. You're growing up. Pretty soon you'll be a woman,   
not a girl." Her mother looked uncomfortable; the speech was   
obviously prepared in advanced, and made with some effort. "I   
mean... you know about... things, right?" 

Nanami flushed crimson and stared intently at the bed.   
"Yes," she muttered. "Yes, I know about things." 

"Oh." Her mother looked relieved. "That's good. Umm..."   
  
"Is that all?"   
  
"I don't know. Is it?" Her mother's voice seemed distant;   
Nanami was certain she wanted the conversation to have ended some   
time ago, but was keeping it up out of a sense of obligation. "I   
feel like I should be asking you the kinds of questions my mother   
asked me when I got to be your age, even though I thought they   
were stupid then, and you'll probably think they're stupid now.   
Are you worried about anything? Is anything troubling you? Are   
there any boys you like?" 

"No, no, and no," Nanami lied.   
  
"Really? No boys at all?" Her mother appeared somewhat   
disappointed. "What about Kyouichi? It was nice of him to bring   
you home; he's a nice boy, isn't he? And very handsome." 

"He's a jerk," she muttered. "Boys are all jerks."   
  
Her mother laughed forcedly. "I remember when I used to   
think that. But it's not true, really. I mean, they're not all   
jerks all of the time." 

"Mama, do we have to talk about this?"   
  
"Well, no, we don't. It's just that you're at the age where   
you start to think about these kind of things. Boys. Things   
like that. But..." 

"What?"   
  
Her mother seemed to be blushing a little as well. "Just   
keep in mind that you're still young and you need to be careful.   
About boys and dating and... other things like that. You're   
still young." 

"Mother!"   
  
"I'm sorry. I just wanted... needed... honey, you look   
really tired." 

"I am. I had a long day."   
  
"And here I am, gabbing away at you. I'm sorry. I'll let   
you sleep. Maybe we can talk about this more tomorrow?" 

"Maybe."   
  
But they wouldn't. She knew that, and her mother knew that.   
So many relationships were based on mutual denial of obvious   
facts. 

She wondered if her mother would give her a hug or a kiss   
before leaving. She tried to decide if she was disappointed when   
she didn't. It wasn't unexpected. Touga was the only one who   
had ever hugged or kissed her much, even when she was little. 

After her mother closed the door, she could hear her talking   
to someone in the hallway, hear Touga's voice raised in reply.   
Then they stopped. For a moment, there was silence. 

The door to her room opened.   
  
"Have you ever heard of knocking?" she snapped.   
  
Touga shrugged as he closed the door. "You always used to   
come into my room without knocking." 

"That was when we were kids. It's different now."   
  
"But wasn't that what you wanted?" he asked quietly. "For   
things to just be like they were when we were children again?" 

"They can't. I'm aware of that now. I've learned your   
little lesson. Now get out." She glared at him; he didn't seem   
bothered by it at all. 

"Is this really the way you want it to be between us from   
now on, Nanami?" 

She didn't answer at first. Then she said, with pain that   
surprised her, pain she wished she didn't have to feel, "How can   
it ever be any other way? After what you did..." 

He crossed the floor and sat down on the bed beside her.   
She said nothing, made no motion, to stop him. He folded his   
hands in his lap and stared at them. He still looked a bit   
winded from his fight with Kyouichi. 

"I wouldn't have done any more than you wanted me to," he   
said finally. 

"Oh?" she said, hugging herself and looking away from him   
until he became only a vague shape seen from the corner of one   
eye, until it seemed he was on the verge of disappearing from her   
sight forever. "And what if I'd wanted more, Touga? What if   
instead of shoving you off me, I'd kissed you back? What if it   
had turned out that it _was_ what I really wanted, all along?   
What then?" 

He didn't say anything at all.   
  
"You would have, wouldn't you?" she finally hissed bitterly.   
  
"I wouldn't have wanted to," he replied.   
  
"But you would have."   
  
Again, he didn't say anything.   
  
Slowly, not really wanting to, she turned her head back   
until she could take all of him in. The silky fall of crimson   
hair, the angular division of light and shadow across his face,   
the gentle blue of his eyes... 

He was so very beautiful, her brother.   
  
"Did you even know it wasn't what you wanted until it   
happened?" he asked suddenly. 

Her entire body tightened like a clenched fist. "How dare   
you come in here and ask me that?" 

"Because I want to know." He locked eyes with her; a note   
of what might have been anger came into his voice. "Be honest   
with yourself, Nanami; is it normal to spy on your big brother   
when he's showering? Is it normal to try and control his life so   
that there won't be any other woman in it but you?" 

"That wasn't--"   
  
"It wasn't? Then what was it?"   
  
"You didn't--"   
  
"No. I didn't." It came out laced with weariness,   
something she thought (wanted to believe, perhaps) was regret. 

She moved a little closer to him, as close as she could get   
without touching. 

"I wish it didn't have to be this way," she said finally,   
giving voice to the hidden desire that she was ashamed to hold.   
"I wish... I wish..." 

"Wishing never did anyone any good. You can't make anything   
happen just by wanting it enough." 

"You sound as though you wish that weren't true."   
  
He smiled faintly. "Maybe I do."   
  
"Mama told me the story. About how we came here."   
  
"Oh."   
  
"Is it true?"   
  
"I don't really have any way of knowing. I was very young   
when we came here; I hardly remember anything."   
  
"And before we came here? Do you remember anything about   
that?" 

A quiet more profound than the mere absence of noise seemed   
to descend upon her bedroom. Touga's eyes, still looking into   
hers, flickered closed, then opened again so quickly they seemed   
never to have been closed at all. Outside, cicadas had begun to   
call to each other. Wind rattled the panes. 

"I don't remember anything about those times at all," he   
said finally. 

"Why do you think our real parents sent us here, Touga?"   
  
"I wish I knew."   
  
"I don't, you know."   
  
"What?"   
  
"I don't want things to be like this between us forever. I   
want... I want..." 

"What do you want?"   
  
"I don't know. I just don't want it to be like _this_.   
Being so angry with you that I want to kill you, and at the same   
time still loving you. I hate feeling like this. It's like   
there are two of me, and one wants to go one way, and the   
other..." 

"Relationships can't always be simple." To her surprise, he   
broke eye contact. "Look at Saionji and me. One moment, we were   
trying to strangle each other; the next, we were laughing like   
old friends." 

"That's because you're both idiots," she muttered.   
  
"I think he likes you."   
  
She sniffed and turned her nose up at him. "I've no idea   
what you're talking about."   
  
"Seriously. You could do worse. He's not a bad guy."   
  
"I could do a lot better, too," she said with a snort.   
  
"Oh? Miki, perhaps?" He grinned at her. "Or... I do seem   
to remember you saying something a little while ago about   
preferring girls..." 

"Stop it!" She was blushing again.   
  
"Sorry."   
  
"Jerk."   
  
He laughed.   
  
"So," he said after a quiet moment, "am I forgiven?"   
  
"No," she said stonily. "I'm still mad at you. I still   
can't believe you're willingly working for that creepy Chairman.   
But..." 

"But what?"   
  
"It's like Tenjou said," she muttered, angry at the   
admission. "Some things haven't changed. You _are_ still my   
brother. And even though I shouldn't, I still love you. Even   
though you're a bastard and an asshole and a jerk. I don't   
_like_ it, but that's the way it is." 

Touga closed his eyes and tilted his head back a little.   
"Tenjou's very wise, in her own naive sort of way." 

"She can't even see what's under her own nose. The Chairman   
and his sister... disgusting. They're like demons, or   
something." 

Touga said nothing.   
  
"What's going to happen to her, anyway?"   
  
He opened his eyes and looked at her with interest. "I   
didn't know you cared." 

"I don't," she protested. "I'm just interested. As far as   
I'm concerned, that girl will just get what's coming to her.   
Get sacrificed for the Revolution, or whatever." 

"Sacrificed?" He almost sounded concerned.   
  
She tightened her arms around herself. "Kyouichi says this   
has all been like a ritual. And I think he's right. Him, then   
Miki, then Juri, then me, than you... then over again, in the   
same order. So I guess you're next. And then the ritual will be   
over, and it will be time for the sacrifice. I almost feel sorry   
for her." 

"I hadn't much thought of it that way," Touga said finally,   
in a very quiet voice. 

"Are you going to fight her again?"   
  
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I don't really have much   
choice in the matter if Kyouichi's right, now do I?" 

"Maybe there's a way we could stop it. I mean, we could   
tell people. Tell everyone. You could refuse to fight. We   
could tell Tenjou everything--" 

"Do you really want to risk the wrath of the Ends of the   
World?" he asked quietly. 

She shuddered. "No; no I don't. But--"   
  
"The best thing for you to do now is stay away," he said.   
"Stay well away. I... my part isn't done in this yet, but I   
think yours is. I'll take care of things from now on." 

"You promise?"   
  
"I promise."   
  
"I wish I could believe you."   
  
"Believe me on this one. I'll do my best to make sure   
everything works out all right." 

Nanami let out a yawn she seemed to have been holding in for   
several hours now. 

"Tired?"   
  
"Tired, and sore, and still angry with you for everything,   
by the way." 

"I'm aware. I won't keep you up any longer." He stood up,   
made as though to move towards the door, then paused. "A kiss   
goodnight, then?" 

"I don't want one from you."   
  
"Well... good night, then."   
  
"Hmph."   
  
He turned the lights out and closed the door behind him.   
  
"Jerk."   
  
She flopped down on her side on the bed and found her eyes   
closing almost instantly. I should undress and change into my   
night clothes, she thought. I should crawl under the covers.   
But I am so tired, and those things all would take effort... 

Perhaps by now Utena is asleep, facing the Rose Bride in the   
darkness. She has no idea at all about what those two get up to.   
Or maybe she does, and just won't let herself think about it;   
maybe she's like me, a type B, and she gets stuck on the wrong   
ideas really easily. Maybe it's easy for her to lie to herself.   
Tomorrow, I should go to her, and I should say it straight out;   
I shouldn't dance around it like I did before. I should say,   
Tenjou-sempai (I would call her Tenjou-sempai; I would try to be   
sincere in calling her that), I need to tell you some things.   
Some things you should know that are important for your safety.   
The Chairman is... he and his sister... the Ends of the World...   
Oh, why can't I even form the words in my mind? If I could   
string them together in my mind, they would be like an unbroken   
chain of silver and gold, and I would have only to let them come   
forth, without stuttering, without fear... I could write her a   
letter and send it anonymously... but she wouldn't believe an   
anonymous letter... I wouldn't believe an anonymous letter...   
She probably wouldn't even believe me if I could tell her face to   
face... after she tried to be nice to me, in her way, and I just   
threw it back at her... I could go to Miki and Juri, and Kyouichi   
too, and we could all go to her, and tell her the identity of the   
Ends of the World, and then, then, maybe together, all of us   
could fight him, all of us with our swords, or we could run away   
from here together, go far, far away (this bed is a boat, and   
the darkness is the ocean, and the bed is travelling to a land   
where it is always summer), somewhere where the Ends of the World   
could never find us... but he would find us, he would always find   
us... and I can't do these things, because I'm too scared, the   
Chairman and his sister; I saw them together, and there was   
light, such as that which surrounds angels or gods or demons...   
I'm so very afraid. There's nothing I can do. My big brother   
said, I'll do my best to make sure everything works out all   
right. So don't worry, Nanami, because things will be okay,   
everything will be okay; but all shall be well, and oh, poor,   
poor Utena, she'll be okay, won't she, big brother? Yes, Nanami,   
she'll be fine, just go to sleep now, good night, Nanami, and   
here is a good night kiss for you, entirely innocent, just like   
when we were children, so don't worry, Nanami, because all shall   
be well, and everyone, everyone, even Tenjou, even her... 

...even her, there will be room... 

...even for her... 

...so sleep... 

..just sleep... 

... 

END 

Notes: 

Whew. 

More of a novella than a short story, this one turned out to be. 

The unseen things in Episodes 31 and 32 have always intrigued me   
by their possibilities. Nanami staying at Miki's place? At   
Juri's place? What went on? 

I originally intended this as a Nanami story, something similar   
to "What Is Done"; it became, as I wrote it, a story about all of   
the Student Council. Something obviously occurs to change the   
relationship dynamic between Touga and Saionji between Episode   
25 and Episode 34; something obviously occurs that would explain   
why Shiori looks so pissed at Juri flirting with Utena in Episode   
37. But what? 

Perhaps this got written because after their final duels, the   
Student Council fade a little into the background, as the focus   
of the story tightens and tightens to resolve the triangle of   
Utena, Anthy and Akio, to tell the last story of the Revolution.   
This is natural and necessary from a storytelling perspective... 

...but sometimes it leaves those of us who are rabid fanboys of   
various Student Council members feeling a bit unsatisfied. ^_~ 

I'm a little uncertain about the whole story, particularly the   
ending. Is it too unwieldily to fit within the canon? Are parts   
of it too warm and fuzzy to be plausible? Is it too big for what   
I wanted it to do? 

But no story ends up the way you see it in your head; in your   
head, everything works perfectly. And then you write it down,   
and it doesn't work at all as you'd intended, and... 

I'm rambling. I don't tend to ramble this much in my notes.   
So I'll finish up. 

This is only a story; it's one facet of a whole gem of   
possibilities. Ambiguity reigns in SKU, which is one of the   
reasons it's such a delight to write for. I'm not saying this is   
how it necessarily happened; I'm not saying this is even   
necessarily a very plausible guess at how it happened; I'm not   
even saying that this is how I believe it happened. It's just   
how the story ended up. Take that as you will. 

Kudos for prereading and support on this particular story go to   
Andrew Huang, Sean Gaffney, Mercutio, and Irina Louise Ruden.   
Kudos to the folks on the Fanfic Revolution ML for additional   
extensive commentary. Kudos to all of you for reading to the   
end of these (rather self-indulgent) notes. 

And that's all I've got to say for now. 

Ciao,   
-Alan Harnum, September 22nd, 2000 


End file.
